Dark Matter
by sockyferret
Summary: Sequel to Into Your Gravity. Luna must now learn to live a new life full of loss. But she also has a dangerous secret. When her future is thrown into question, perhaps the only place to look is the past. Rated M for language, violence, and sexuality.
1. Chapter One: Grief

.

 **Dark Matter  
** Chapter One: Grief

* * *

 _Well, I've lost it all, I'm just a silhouette.  
_ _I'm a lifeless face you'll soon forget.  
_ _And my eyes are damp from the words you left,  
_ _ringing in my head, when you broke my chest.  
_ _Setting fire to our insides for fun  
_ _to distract our hearts from ever missing them.  
_ _But I'm forever missing him.  
_ Youth - Daughter

* * *

 _It will only work once, and it will only take you where you need to go._

Luna gazed down at her palm where the tiny bit of parchment and Time-Turner rested. The flames from the burning house were reflected in the metallic luster of the Time-Turner: flickering, lambent light.

She looked up towards where Voldemort had fallen and saw his crumpled body cast in shadows. The scent of burning wood filled her nose. The air in her lungs was hot. She retched without nausea, without warning, as though she needed to get the feeling out of her, like she needed to get the knowledge of all that had happened out of her. Nothing came out.

After a shuddering breath, she returned her eyes to the Time-Turner and the parchment in her hand. For a long moment, Luna felt as though her breathing, her pulse, and the rate at which the light of the fire wavered were all in sync. Then a breath of cool night breeze shivered through her hair and lifted the piece of parchment from her palm and carried it up, up, away from her. Her eyes followed it through the air, but as it began to fall towards the fire, her heart rate quickened, sputtering out of time with the beat of the flames.

She stumbled forward a heavy step, hand outstretched, reaching for the bit of parchment, that last bit of proof of his humanity in the intimate details of his handwriting -

An arm grabbed her around her waist, hauling her backward. The parchment drifted further downward. She fought, she kicked, she pried at the arm restraining her with her free hand, she hit with a fist closed around the Time-Turner with her other hand. Her face was wet and she tasted salt; she was crying and screaming, but didn't know when she had started either.

"Luna! Luna!" A voice, the owner of the arm. Another arm wrapped around her, bear-hugging her arms to her sides. The parchment alighted on a burning beam and erupted into flames. It was indistinguishable from the rest of the surrounding devastation.

"Luna!" Harry's voice. It was Harry. Luna stopped fighting, limbs softening and allowing herself to be pulled away. Then her muscles went past relaxed into limp as she lost consciousness.

* * *

Grief. She knew she was grieving, as she had done before. Her father. Tom. Even the memories of her mother's death, something she had so long ago thought she had made sense of somehow, seemed dredged up like silt from the sediment of her soul. Except now, there were invisible, implicit boundaries set on her grief. There were limits to that which was limitless.

Luna was seated cross-legged on the ground in a bedroom on the first floor of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, her back leaning against the small bed. She was sitting very still, eyes downcast at the threadbare rug in front of her. Othello the Kneazle was curled up on her lap, rumbling with a low, steady purr. His purr cut off and he lifted his head from her knee and turned towards the door, huge ears rotating back and forth. A few moments later, there was a knock at the door.

"Luna?" Hermione's voice hesitantly perturbed the heavy air of the room. "May I come in?"

"Of course." Luna felt as though her voice came from somewhere outside of herself.

Hermione opened the dark wooden door just wide enough to squeeze herself inside, as though she wanted to come in but didn't want to let anything out, then eased it shut behind her. She inspected Luna for a moment, her eyes pausing on her blonde hair, which was dull, greasy, and in some places beginning to form mats. Then, without further hesitation, she sat down on the rug in front of Luna and crossed her own legs.

Othello uncoiled himself on Luna's lap. He stepped down between the two girls and stretched his spine, spreading his front toes apart and snagging his claws on the rug. He then walked to Hermione and butted her hand with his head.

"How are you doing?" Hermione asked as she lifted her hand to pet the Kneazle.

Luna picked at a loose thread in the faded carpet and didn't raise her eyes. After a moment, she shrugged.

"Do you want to talk about it? It's been three weeks and you haven't really left this room much. You should go back to school with us for the rest of the term; Easter holidays are nearly over. We - I'm worried about you."

"I don't like that," Luna replied in a quiet voice, continuing to pull at the thread in the rug. "I know you are just trying to show you care, but I don't like feeling like I have to reassure anyone I'm all right at the moment."

Hermione scratched under Othello's chin. "I can understand that," she said after a moment.

Luna nodded at her, but didn't volunteer anything else.

"I'm so sorry about your dad, Luna," Hermione said. "I can't imagine. I know you must miss him terribly."

Traitorous, fat tears welled up along Luna's lower eyelids, blurring her vision, quivering for a split second, then spilling over and running down her cheeks. Her eyes never left the thread with which she fiddled. She nodded. "Yes," she whispered.

"I wish I could -" Hermione began.

"I miss them all," Luna interrupted. The thread in the rug finally pulled free. "I miss my mother. I miss my father. I miss Tom. And I know nobody wants to hear about that part, but it's true. I feel cursed. I feel like I'm being followed by a Jhumbie."

"Luna, that's -"

"I know! I know you don't think they are real. I don't care. I feel as though the world's been tilted sideways, and I'm scrambling for traction. I feel like the only stationary thing in the universe as everything else goes right on around me; as if nothing has happened, as if there aren't big, gaping holes where people are supposed to be." Her voice was just above a whisper and it took all the energy she had. "'It's been three weeks.' Do you think I don't know? I feel every second of every minute of every hour that goes by, because it's all I can do to make it from one moment to the next, to keep existing in this world. I feel as though I'm screaming into a pitch black, empty room for all the good it will do me. And I feel awful, I feel awful, because I know it's good Tom's dead and I hate it anyway. And I hate that my sadness about my dad is all mixed up with sadness about Tom, because one feels clean and the other doesn't. And I'm afraid I'm letting you all down."

Hermione's eyes shone with tears of their own, and she sat frozen listening to Luna speak.

"I thought we'd have more time," Luna continued. "I thought I had more time. I took it for granted that I would see him again. I thought there would be so much more _time_."

Hermione regained her voice. "Who are you talking about?" she said, shaking her head. She reached out and placed a hand over Luna's. "Your father would still be here if...but I know you know that. I want to be there for you, but I can't understand some of it. You know I can't."

Luna nodded. It was moments like this, when in the company of someone she loved, that her aloneness felt most acute, and her isolation in her grief felt total, threatening to eclipse her into darkness.

She allowed Hermione to pull her to her feet and lead her out of the room. Ginny was hovering in the hall nearby, holding towels and clean clothes. They escorted her into the bathroom, drew up a hot bath for her. When she finished bathing, Ginny combed the knots out of her wet hair while Hermione handed her a sandwich and encouraged her to eat it.

Luna offered a feeble smile.

* * *

They returned to school just a couple of days later and were plunged back into the thick of their academics. The mood at the school was still one of celebration and victory regarding the fall of Lord Voldemort, such that no amount of homework could hope to dampen most of the students' spirits.

"Can't believe they're making us do homework," Ron said as he shuffled through sheets of parchment in the library. Ron, along with Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna, were all seated around a large table the afternoon after their first day back at class, with their books and study materials spread out in front of them. "You'd think defeating You-Know-Who would be proof enough we aren't completely stupid."

Everyone but Luna laughed, which earned a prompt shushing from Madam Pince. Luna kept her eyes on the Potions book open in front of her.

"Half the teachers have been removed anyway," Ginny added, "seeing as how they were Death Eaters and all."

"I know," Hermione said anxiously. "It makes it so much more difficult to know what will be on our exams, now that we haven't got our professors anymore. There's just no _consistency_!"

Ron stopped shuffling through his things to stare at her. "It was just the Carrows, not half the teachers. Their classes were rubbish anyway, and they were Death Eaters, Hermione!" He shook his head. "Honestly, you'd think she'd rather get Outstandings on her exams than have Death Eaters put away in Azkaban," he said to Harry.

This elicited another round of chuckles from the group, and Madam Pince reappeared next to their table, seeming to come out of thin air. "This is a place for _quiet study_ ," she hissed. "If you cannot do that, then I must insist you be rambunctious elsewhere!"

"Oh, fine," Ron said, slapping the parchment in his hand back on the table. "It's about time for dinner anyway."

The six of them packed up their things, Hermione with a greater level of hesitation than the others, and they went off to the Great Hall for dinner. Luna sat through dinner at the Gryffindor table, to which no one protested. Although the student body was unaware of the specifics of Luna's situation given the secrecy about her time travel, everyone knew her father had died.

"Luna, you're pale as a ghost," Ginny said, "and about as thin as a bowtruckle." She began piling food onto Luna's empty plate.

This had become a familiar routine over the past few days. Luna had no appetite, but at each meal time, one of her friends without fail would put food in front of her and wait for her to eat it.

Feeling all their eyes on her, Luna picked up her fork. "Did you know that the bowtruckles in Borneo can grow to the size of Beater's bat?" she said.

Smiles cracked on the others' faces, shoulders untensing, and they all began to eat. Luna performed the mechanical motion of eating, but didn't seem to taste much of anything. Throughout the meal, she made a point to make a comment here and there, much to the pleasure of her friends.

After dinner, they all headed upstairs, then it came time to separate for their common rooms. The five others said goodnight to Luna, and she headed to Ravenclaw Tower alone. She climbed the familiar spiral staircase, up to the wooden door with the bronze eagle knocker. She struggled for the first time at answering its question; her brain seemed so much more muddled than it used to be.

Crossing the common room, she avoided the stares of her fellow Ravenclaws, who were silent for a moment, then began whispering to each other.

"That's right," she overheard, "taken prisoner -"

"- and her father -"

Luna quickened her pace, making it to the stairs to the dormitories. She took the steps two at a time, opened the door to her dorm room to find it blissfully empty, then quickly climbed into her bed and yanked the bed curtains shut. She lay panting on her back, forehead clammy, still in her school robes and shoes.

A familiar strangling feeling made its way into her throat as she stared at canopy of her bed. The quiet of the dorm room pressed in on her ears after the pleasant chatter of her friends all afternoon. She had been longing to be alone, and yet now that she was, she felt lonely. Even Othello was off slinking through the castle.

She rolled over onto her side, then rolled to her other side. Then she fluffed her pillow, and laid on her back again. She sighed, then reached into the front of her robes, pulling out a long, thin chain with a small gold hourglass at the end. She held it dangling over her head in the bed so that it swung back and forth inches above her face.

Her arm holding the Time-Turner up had gone numb by the time she moved again. Peeking her head through the bed curtains, she pulled the drawer of her bedside table open. She held the Time-Turner over the open drawer for a moment, nodded, then laid it with care in the drawer. The chain lay coiled like a serpent around the tiny hourglass. Her eyes traced the curves in the chain.

Then she snapped the drawer shut.


	2. Chapter Two: Prophecy

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 **Dark Matter  
** Chapter Two: Prophecy

* * *

 _Do you believe in reincarnation?  
_ _Because I thought I saw your soul  
_ _flashing and dancing on the horizon,  
_ _shades of jade and emerald.  
_ _Oh, I'm a bad girl because I turned the bad world  
_ _into a crystal pearl.  
_ Reincarnation - Susanne Sundfor

* * *

The weather began to warm up over the rest of the week, spring in full swing as April reached its peak. Luna awoke on her first Friday back at Hogwarts due to a ray of sunlight slithering its way into a gap in her bed curtains and settling across her face. Othello was curled up around her head, hogging over half her pillow, and the two of them opened their eyes at the same time. Othello stood up to stretch while Luna stared at the gap in the curtains, at where a rectangle of warm light streamed through. The weight on her chest that came at the prospect of beginning another day started to settle in, just as Othello climbed onto her chest to get her attention.

"I know it's good I'm here," she told the Kneazle in a soft voice. Although there was a dangerous part of her that ached for self-isolation, Luna knew there was power in connection, and her network of friendships was a capillary bed giving her what she needed. Even if they didn't fully understand. Her friends and her schoolwork distracted her, gave her a reason to keep moving. Gave her a refuge from her own mind, which was ruthless and relentless when she was alone.

Getting out of bed was getting a tiny bit easier everyday. Her appetite was beginning to return. But what had happened to her was permanent. Like an amputee, the skin would grow over and heal, but the limb would never return. She would never be the same; she would just learn to live without, and sometimes, even after many years, the phantom of what was lost would still be able to cause her pain.

Some days were better than others. Some hours were better than others.

Pulling the bed curtains open further, Luna's eyes lingered not for the first time on the drawer of her bedside table. She lay her head back down on the pillow, feeling exhausted.

Othello began licking at the tears that were leaking out of the corner of her eyes. Luna hugged the Kneazle with both arms and kissed his forehead. "Alright, you've convinced me. I'll get up."

She got out of bed, dressing in her school robes in the already empty dormitory. She tucked her wand behind her ear, but paused when she looked at her jewelry. A Butterbeer cork necklace. Dirigible plum earrings. Other bits and bobs she had collected for various reasons, for which she had been teased over the years.

"What do you think?" she asked Othello, who was curled on the bed. "Do you think I'm Loony?"

The Kneazle stared at her and flicked his lion tail.

Picking up the Butterbeer cork necklace, she held it out for him to see. "Do you think this will keep the Nargles away?" She looked at the necklace in her hand, then back to Othello. "Do you think Nargles are real?"

Othello mewed at her.

Luna sighed. "You aren't very helpful, answering like that," she said. She lay the Butterbeer cork necklace back down next to the rest of her jewelry.

Reaching out a paw, Othello batted the drawer of her bedside table.

Stern, Luna said, "I can't go back. We've discussed this. I've already lost too much. I can't keep living in the past, especially when there's no guarantee it would be any better." Then, without waiting for her Kneazle's response, she left the dormitory.

Coming down from Ravenclaw Tower, she paused at the base of the narrow spiral staircase. This was the place where Tom had led her the very first night they had met. She looked down at the stones in the floor where he had stood as he pointed up the stairs for her, telling her where the common room was. She had not realized just yet who the boy standing in front of her was. He had strutted away from her that night, exquisitely arrogant, like frigid velvet.

Luna looked up along the corridor, half expecting to see him, all long legs and long fingers, cheekbones and collarbones, steeped in careful, calculated control. She shook herself. There was no one there now. That boy was long gone. She had to live without him.

As Luna entered the Great Hall for breakfast, a wave of nausea slammed into her. The usually enticing smells of food were overpowering. She paused in the entrance, her hand reaching out to grasp the door frame for stability, eyes shut tight until the sharpness of the feeling deadened.

Her eyes popped open again, the sounds of students eating and chatting rushing back to her ears. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she meandered to Gryffindor table. She had had dinner with her own House twice that week, but she longed for the distraction of her friends' conversation this morning.

"Morning, Luna," said Neville, as she plopped down into a seat beside him.

"Good morning," Luna replied. She put food on her plate, but then pushed her food around with a fork, eyes out of focus.

Across the table, Harry was tickling Ginny, causing her to squeal and her eyes to water. "Stop it! Harry! Stop!" she cried, laughing. One of her arms flailed out and knocked into a jug of pumpkin juice, which was caught by Hermione's hands before it spilled.

"Don't tell me you're not eating again," Hermione said sternly, watching the progress of Luna's eggs around the plate and righting the jug of pumpkin juice.

"I just feel sort of...funny," Luna said.

"Can you two knock if off?" Ron said, a look of disgust on his face. "You're making me want to spew!"

Luna looked up. "You too?"

"Okay, okay, fine," Harry said, throwing his hands in the air in concession and ceasing the assault on Ginny.

Ginny, for all she had begged Harry to stop, scowled at her brother. "Sorry we're making everyone sick!"

For a second, Luna opened her mouth to explain that it wasn't Ginny and Harry that had made her sick, but then another wave hit her, both of nausea and that nebulous, creeping apathy, and she found she couldn't be bothered to put forth the effort required to explain herself.

A great fluttering overhead announced the arrival of the morning post. Luna was still receiving letters of condolences, as people who knew her father or loyal fans of _The Quibbler_ reached out to her about his passing. So it was not particularly surprising when a screech owl dropped three letters in front of her to open.

The first two were indeed sympathy notes, the first from Amos Diggory. She passed it to Harry so that he could read it when she was done. The second was from an old coworker of her father's, a reporter who had retired from _The Quibbler_ some years back.

The third and final letter, however, was from the Ministry of Magic, and it was with her curiosity piqued that she opened it. "Oh," she said, as she read the letter.

"What is it, Luna?" Neville asked.

"It's just a notice informing me that my father left a will. The Ministry's reviewed the will, and he left everything to me."

Her friends fumbled, unsure of what the correct response was.

"Well, that's...good, right?" Ron said.

"Does that mean you'll still live in your house?" Ginny asked. "You're seventeen, you're of age."

Luna shrugged. "I suppose so. I haven't got any other family. It was always just me and my dad. I'm not sure where else I would go."

"Well, if you don't want to live alone, you can always stay with one of us, Luna," Hermione said.

"Of course, you're welcome anytime," added Harry. "Grimmauld Place will be rather empty now the Order's moved out, anyway."

"And the Burrow's nearby your house," said Ginny, "so you could visit anytime you wanted."

Luna looked from face to face before her, arranged around the table like a picture. Harry's green eyes, Ginny's red hair. The anxiety in Neville's face, the maternal concern in Hermione's, the well-meaning discomfort in Ron's. She started laughing and crying at the same time, much to their surprise.

Hermione reached out to her. "Luna -"

"I'm alright," she said through tears and quiet giggles. "I swear, I haven't misplaced my mind." Ron and Harry exchanged a look. "I'm just so fortunate to have you all in my life. I think sometimes being really sad makes the best things in our lives that much more obvious, don't you?"

Smiles broke out around the table. The conversation move forward and they carried on for several minutes until Ginny glanced at her watch. "Bollocks," she said, "time for Divination, Luna. We'd better get going." Ginny kissed Harry goodbye, then gathered her things.

Luna stood up from the table, having eaten none of her breakfast, and followed the red-headed witch from the Great Hall. They headed for the North Tower, weaving among the other students in the halls. Then up they went through the trapdoor into the Divination classroom.

Luna settled into a pouf at one of the small, round tables. She fiddled with the lace tablecloth as her eyes adjusted to the dim, red light and her nose became accustomed to the heavily perfumed air wafting from the warm fireplace.

Ginny sat next to her and whispered conspiratorially, "I may have fudged my tarot card homework a bit this week. Hope Trelawney doesn't notice. To be honest, I didn't get a deck at the start of term, seemed like a waste of Galleons…."

Before Luna could respond, Professor Trelawney appeared out of the shadows, covered in bangles and beads. "Today, my dears, we will begin the study of pyromancy. To divine the future from the flame, we must channel our energies and join with the collective spiritual subconscious on the astral plane." Her voice was breathy, and she stalked amongst the tables as she spoke, waving a hand in the air to gesture at the collective spiritual subconscious which, it seemed, surrounded them. "I do not expect that many of you will be able to discern the complexities of a flickering flame, however those who do possess the Inner Eye will have much revealed to them."

Ginny rolled her eyes behind Trelawney's back.

"I suspect that some of us may divine some ominous truths this morning, as pyromancy is well-known to tap into the most dark and fearful portions of our futures. As such, I must advise you to steel yourselves before gazing into the fires." Trelawney paused next to Colin Creevey, who sat listening with an enraptured look upon his face. "I'm afraid, my dear, that you are likely to fall ill before the end of the month. If you could be so kind as to meet with me after class, we can discuss your make-up work…."

As Trelawney drifted away, Colin looked downright delighted to hear of his impending illness. "Did you hear that?" he whispered to his tablemate, beaming.

"Now, please obtain the appropriate materials from the shelves here," Trelawney said, gesturing to a large bookcase along the wall. "We will be working in pairs today."

The students began bustling around to get ready. Ginny and Luna were soon back at their table with a miniature fire pit that fit in the center of the tabletop and several different herbs and plants to burn. Luna used her wand to start a small blaze, then the two girls flipped open their books for instruction.

A few minutes later, there were a dozen tiny fires lit in addition to the scented fire in the hearth of the room. Luna and Ginny were overheated within minutes. "Okay, so...we're supposed to see if the smoke goes straight up, or if it billows around a bit?" Ginny said, wiping sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her robes as they read their textbooks. "And if we add laurel leaves, then we've got to listen to the crackles."

Luna was feeling heady from the heat and fragrant air. She had her chin propped up on one hand and was making their fire change colors with intermittent prods from her wand with the other. The flames flashed purple, then green, then orange. "Do you suppose any of the colors make for better fortune-telling?" she asked pensively, eyes slipping out of focus.

"Er," Ginny said, running a finger along the text, "I don't see anything about that in here, Luna."

Across the room, Luna overheard a Hufflepuff girl say, "Professor? Are you alright?" Both Luna and Ginny looked around, and saw Professor Trelawney seated at one of the small tables next to the girl who had spoken. But she had gotten rigid, sitting stock still on the pouf, her eyes staring without seeing as though in a trance. "Professor?" the girl repeated.

Other students were now turning around to look. Then Professor Trelawney spoke, in a voice deep and harsh, most unlike her own: "THE DARK LORD HAS FALLEN."

There was a thudding sound as Colin Creevey knocked his book to the floor as he spun around to gape at Trelawney. Everyone in the class was watching, their faces aghast. Luna's heart rate quickened, her mind which moments before had been muddled now clear, and Ginny's eyebrows were verging on disappearing into her hairline.

Trelawney continued, "THE DARK LORD HAS FALLEN, BUT HE ENDURES WITHIN ANOTHER. SHE WHO GAVE THE DARK LORD THAT WHICH HE HAD NEVER BEFORE KNOWN WILL ALSO PRODUCE FOR HIM AN HEIR. THE HEIR WILL POSSESS THE POWER OF THE DARK LORD. THEY WILL TOGETHER TRANSCEND THE LIMITATIONS PREVIOUSLY IMPOSED. THEY WILL REPAIR THAT WHICH WAS BROKEN, AND THROUGH THEM THE DARK LORD SHALL LIVE. THEY WILL REPAIR...WILL REPAIR THAT...which...was broken…the heir…." Professor Trelawney's head slumped forward, her chin on her chest, eyes fluttering closed.

A brittle, electric silence fell in the room. As the terrified class continued to stare at Trelawney, Luna, heart pounding in her ears, turned her eyes to Ginny. The other girl was staring right back at her, face white as a sheet, eyes as wide as saucers, mouth open in horror.


	3. Chapter Three: Alone

.

 **Dark Matter  
** Chapter Three: Alone

* * *

 _Somebody better let me know my name  
_ _before I give myself away.  
_ _Somebody better show me how I feel,  
_ _because I know I'm not at the wheel.  
_ Artifice - Sohn

* * *

"Luna, we should go," Ginny was muttering, pulling on Luna's sleeve.

Professor Trelawney snorted, seeming to wake up. "Have I dozed off?" she said. Seeing her students' terrified faces, she asked, "What's the matter?"

"Professor," Ginny said, standing up from their table, "Luna isn't feeling well. I'm going to walk her to the Hospital Wing."

Peering at them, eyes abnormally large through her spectacles, Trelawney said, "Very well, my dear."

Ginny extinguished their fire with the jet of water from her wand, then shoved her book into her bag. Seeing that Luna was still frozen in her chair, she grabbed Luna's book and bag as well, then placed a firm hand under Luna's elbow and pulled her to standing. "Let's go." The eyes of every student in the class followed their progress as Ginny marched Luna to the trap door, down the ladder, and out of sight.

The moment they were alone at the bottom of the ladder, trap door shut behind them, Ginny said, "We need to talk to Harry."

Luna still felt incapable of words, and she allowed Ginny to tow her through the castle until they came to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Ginny knocked on the door, then poked her head in. "Excuse me, Professor, but I need to speak to Harry and Hermione for a moment. And Ron, Neville, you should come, too. It's very important."

A moment later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville stepped outside, faces quizzical. "Ginny, Luna, what -" Harry started.

"Not here," Ginny interrupted. "We need to speak in private."

Seeing the graveness in Ginny's face, as well as the far-off, stunned look in Luna's, Harry didn't question her further. "Fine. Let's go to the Room of Requirement."

The six of them set off, heading back upstairs to the seventh floor, finding the painting of Barnabas the Barmy, then pacing back and forth three times thinking of a private place to talk. The door materialized, and they hurried inside, Ginny glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one had seen them as her hand still guided Luna forward.

The Room had turned itself into a small, cozy study with dark wood bookcases along the walls, a warm fireplace crackling, and six plush armchairs atop a Persian rug. Ginny led Luna to one of the chairs, then collapsed in another herself.

"What's happened?" Harry said as soon as he had shut the door behind them. He hovered by the door while Ron, Hermione and Neville also took seats.

Ginny, sitting with her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands, shook her head, causing her red hair to waver back and forth. Luna sat in her chair, her rigid posture and still face in sharp contrast to the way her mind and heart were racing. Harry looked between the two of them, then crossed the room to sit down in the last chair.

After a moment, Ginny lifted her head up, clasping her hands between her knees. "Professor Trelawney just had another prediction. A real one. She was just like she was with the other two, all trance-like and with a deep voice. Didn't realize what she'd said."

"Really?" Hermione said.

Harry scooted forward to the edge of his seat. "What was it?"

Tension crackled in the room. Ginny looked to Luna. "Do you want to tell them, or should I?" When Luna didn't respond, didn't even move, Ginny turned back to Harry. "She said...oh, for Merlin's sake, let me get it right. She said the Dark Lord had fallen, but that he - he lived on in someone else." Ginny's voice was shaky and her eyes kept darting towards Luna as she spoke, who appeared to be frozen and not listening. "She said, 'She who gave the Dark Lord something he'd never had before,' or something like that - "

"'She who gave the Dark Lord that which he had never before known,'" came Luna's quiet voice.

Everyone looked sharply towards her, but her face was the same, only her lips had moved.

"Right," Ginny said. "'...will also produce for him an heir.'"

The color drained from the group's faces. Hermione covered her mouth with her hands, and Ron and Neville looked vaguely ill. "What?" said Harry.

Ginny nodded, reaching towards Harry and grasping his hand in her own.

"'The heir will possess the power of the Dark Lord. They will together transcend the limitations previously imposed. They will repair that which was broken, and through them the Dark Lord shall live,'" Luna murmured, directly quoting Trelawney's words. The heaviest silence fell between them, Luna's eyes still staring unseeingly at the carpet.

"So...does that mean you're...pregnant?" Ron ventured, looking to Luna.

"Of course it does, what else could it mean?" Ginny said.

"Well, perhaps it's about someone else," Neville said with his eyes wide. "Perhaps Bellatrix, or - "

"Right!" Ron said hopefully. "Bellatrix escaped at the last battle, she's still on the run - maybe it's about her?"

Hermione silenced them all with a look, then turned to Luna. She placed a gentle hand on Luna's knee, and said delicately, "Well, Luna, first we need to know - _could_ it be about you?"

Luna knew what she was asking and knew she should feel ashamed but couldn't. "Yes," she whispered.

"Urgh," Ron grimaced, which was rewarded with a swat from Ginny.

Harry stood up and began pacing the small study in front of the fireplace, running his hand through his hair and making it stand on end. "'The powers of the Dark Lord…,'" he muttered. "'Through them the Dark Lord shall live.'"

"What do you suppose that means? You-Know-Who can't come back again, can he?" Neville asked fearfully.

"I don't see how he could," Hermione said biting her lip.

"That Prophecy makes it sound like his heir won't be much better, though," Ron said.

Ginny shook her head with a glum expression. "And Trelawney made that prediction in front of two dozen sixth years. It will be all over _The Daily Prophet_ tomorrow morning. The whole wizarding world will know of it; we can't Obliviate all the students that were in the room."

"This will start a panic," Hermione said, her voice shaking. "People will think You-Know-Who is coming back. They'll want to know who the heir is. They'll hunt them down."

Harry abruptly stopped pacing and turned back to Luna. "We have to know, Luna."

Luna moved her lips but felt unable to respond, and unsure of what she would say even if she was capable.

"All right." Hermione stood up as well, pulling her wand out and pointing it at Luna's abdomen. "Luna, I'm going to…okay?" When Luna still didn't respond, Hermione whispered, " _Revelio!_ "

A tiny wisp of smoke shot from the lower part of Luna's belly. It swirled amorphously just in front of her, then seemed to consolidate its form. Ginny gasped, while Ron muttered, "Bloody hell."

Finally, Luna felt energy come back into her limbs as she lifted one hand towards the little bit of smoke. The size of a bean, it could have fit on her fingertip. But there was an unmistakable curve of a head, a body, four tiny appendages. The little smoke figure rotated slowly mid-air. Luna's lips parted slightly as she stared at it, then just as her fingertip touched it, the smoke dissipated, the figure disappearing. Luna's hand hovered in the air where it had been.

"We have to protect Luna," Harry said, jolting everyone out of their stunned silence, even Luna, who shifted her gaze to Harry. "We have to protect her baby."

"But it's _You-Know-Who's_ baby!" Ron stammered.

"You're not going to - to turn me in?" asked Luna.

Harry frowned, then strode over to Luna, dropping to a knee in front of her as though making a pledge, his green eyes shining with emotion behind his glasses. "Luna, my mum died because of a Prophecy like that. My whole life was changed because of a Prophecy like that. We don't know what your kid's going to be like. I'm not going to let him be persecuted for something he can't control. And I'm certainly not going to let youget hurt like my mum."

"But we _do_ know what the kid's going to be like!" Ron said. "The Prophecy says he'll have his dear old dad's powers, and You-Know-Who will live through him! He's half-Dark Lord!"

"First of all, you don't know he's a 'he,'" Ginny said, "and second of all, he's also half-Luna. I'm with Harry; we can't let anyone know who that Prophecy was about."

"And prophecies are almost always up to interpretation," Hermione added thoughtfully. "Just look at Harry and Neville - the Prophecy You-Know-Who used to pick out Harry also applied to Neville."

"Why don't we ask Luna what she wants?" Neville said quietly, watching Luna's face.

Five pairs of eyes shifted towards her. The fireplace let out a louder-than-usual pop in the quiet. Luna's brain knew what she wanted to say, but the words seemed to be getting lost on the way to her mouth. How could she explain to them? She was more terrified than she had ever been in life, but also…. She placed a hand over her stomach, reflexively, protectively. Could she be afraid of her child? The pieces of her new life that she had just been trying to put back together, now shattered all over again. But there was something there amongst the wreckage that hadn't been there before. She had lost nearly her everything, but now….

For some reason, she sought Neville's eyes out of all of them, where he sat in the chair next to her. "I'm afraid," she managed to say.

Neville looked at least as afraid as Luna, but reached out to her across the gap between their chairs, enclosing her hand in his. "It's okay to be afraid, Luna. You can't be brave if there's nothing to be afraid of."

"Bellatrix will know," Luna said. "She will know it's about me. The Death Eaters, they'll try to get to me. To my…." Her voice faded out, still unable to say the words aloud past the tightness in her throat.

"We won't let that happen, Luna," Ginny said fiercely.

"We'll come up with a story," said Hermione. "We'll tell the Order, so they can help us protect you from the Death Eaters, but no one else can know. If certain parts of the Ministry found out, I'm not sure what they would do."

Harry nodded. "You won't be alone, Luna."

"Of course you won't," Ron said gruffly, making them all turn to him. "What? Of course we've all got your back, Luna. Even if you are growing You-Know-Who Junior."

"Ron!" Hermione said sharply, but to everyone's surprise, Luna finally cracked a smile and laughed.

* * *

"Well, it's not the first time Hogwarts has dealt with a pregnancy, although I must say, it's the first time we've had a pregnancy under these particular circumstances," Minerva McGonagall said crisply. "As Headmistress, I can certainly assist in managing the issue at Hogwarts."

Luna, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville were seated around the dining room table of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Along the other side of the table were McGonagall, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and then Ron and Ginny's parents, Molly and Arthur Weasley. Harry had just finished telling them about Trelawney's Prophecy, and their conclusion that it regarded Luna. It was evening, and the students had gone first to Headmistress McGonagall, who then used Floo Powder between her office and Grimmauld Place to organize a meeting with members of the Order.

Although there had been shock and fear in their faces when Harry's story was complete, none of the Order members had outwardly responded with disgust or judgement of Luna herself. Luna wondered if this was because they thought Tom too manipulative and powerful to hold her even partially responsible.

Tonks was cradling her newborn son Teddy in her arms and had her jaw set. "And of course you will have protection. The Auror department is still hunting day and night for Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters who got away."

Molly Weasley patted Luna's hand. "If you need anything at all dear, just let us know. Babies are a lot of work, but you don't have to do it alone."

"Is this truly the best decision?" Kingsley said, his brows furrowed. "We are talking about the heir of the Dark Lord, and we won't even question if we should be protecting him? Why shouldn't we be taking precautions, in case the child is dangerous? The Prophecy certainly made it sound as if this would be the case."

"Kingsley, we can take precautions in the event the child begins to show signs of Dark magic, but I agree with Harry - we cannot punish the child before he's even born. And we certainly can't punish Luna," said Arthur.

"Our first priority should be to protect Luna," Lupin said, mouth turned into a slight frown. "It won't just be Bellatrix out to get her. The entire Wizarding world will fear what the child of Voldemort could mean."

"And will they be wrong?" Kingsley demanded. "How many lives have we just lost in order to overthrow him? Alastor...Hestia...Severus...will we allow their deaths to be in vain?"

"We don't know that," Tonks said as she stared down at her own son. "The child deserves a chance."

"We need you help, as Minister of Magic," Arthur said to Kingsley. "If you're not on our side, we'll have a much harder time."

Kingsley fell silent, face sober. Luna glanced around the table, feeling exposed as they discussed her as though she wasn't there or couldn't understand them. She watched as Kingsley deliberated with himself, holding her breath. Finally, Kingsley sighed heavily and shook his head. "Very well. If this is the decision of the Order, I will respect it."

Luna blinked, sensing the faintest hesitation in his words. Perhaps it was that he was looking at the table as he said it, or that the fingers of his hand fidgeted where they lay on the table. No one else seemed to notice it though, as the tension in the room immediately lightened somewhat.

"Excellent," Arthur said. "Now, we must have a plan in place."

* * *

A few hours later, after a great deal of discussion about every aspect of their plan, the students stumbled back towards their dormitories from McGonagall's office, completely exhausted.

They had decided to tell the story that the father of Luna's child was a Muggle she had met while she was mysteriously absent at the beginning of the year. It would explain his absence and be so mundane as to hopefully deter any further interest. McGonagall had insisted that Luna begin meeting with Madam Pomfrey in order to receive prenatal potions and have regular checkups. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville would keep a close eye on Luna while at school in addition to McGonagall. Tonks would keep the Order updated on the movements of Bellatrix and the Death Eaters based on the Aurors' most up-to-date information. And Kingsley, as Minister of Magic, would try to control the damage of the inevitable terror when the news broke to the rest of the Wizarding World.

The group of students paused before heading in different directions to the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw common rooms. Luna gratefully accepted their hugs, hugging Harry last. As she pulled away from Harry, her heart tugged guiltily inside of her.

Her mind wandered upstairs to her dormitory, where the Time-Turner with its gold chain lay coiled furtively in the drawer of her bedside table. She hadn't mentioned it to anyone, through all the hours around the table at Grimmauld Place. It had crossed her mind several times like the blackest fog, and she had teetered on the edge of saying something, her mouth going dry when she considered that if the worst fears about the child she was carrying were true, such a thing as a Time-Turner linked to Voldemort was so exquisitely dangerous.

But her voice had failed her at the meeting. As she pulled away from Harry's hug, she hesitated once again. "Harry," she whispered.

He looked at her quizzically, full of affection and trust.

"I…," she started. She faltered again. Overcome with a new, shameful allegiance to something other than her former life, she was unable to share it. She kept her secret, stowing it away her soul, and feeling the most acute wave of guilt she had yet felt, hiding things just as these people sacrificed so much to keep her safe. Even though she didn't intend to use it, it was hers. Her story was hers and hers alone, but now also her child's. For the first time in her life, she found herself averting her eyes from her friend's in self-reproach. "Nothing," she said, and finished pulling away from the hug. "Thank you for everything today. You are quite good friends to have."

They all smiled at her, wishing her a good night, then went on their way toward Gryffindor tower. Luna hovered in the corridor for a moment watching them go, feeling quite different from the girl she had been before.


	4. Chapter Four: Genesis

.

 **Dark Matter  
** Chapter Four: Genesis

* * *

 _They come to see the fire burning in your heart.  
_ _They want to witness this love from the start.  
_ _They hear you when you cry; this love is far and wide.  
_ _When you smile, the stars align,  
_ _flower of the universe and child of mine.  
_ Flower of the Universe - Sade (No I.D. Remix)

 _We're confined to be apart, to take sides in divided cells.  
_ _We collide when we depart; don't ask me what's the cost, I don't know myself.  
_ _I'm found out if all I do is hide between the lines, an outsider at the door.  
_ _I'm unbound, foreign on a path forever mine.  
_ Outsider - Blanco White

* * *

Tom folded his last set of school robes and placed them on the stack of already-folded clothes in his trunk. He straightened back up and looked around his dormitory. He was alone, his roommates having already headed downstairs to for the End-of-Term Feast. They had wanted to wait for him, but he waved them ahead, saying he would catch up when he was done packing.

Looking around the room he had lived in for most of the past seven years, a heavy feeling settled over him. He reached out and touched the green curtains of his bed. This school had been his home, in ways the orphanage never had. It was here he had learned how powerful he could be, here he had finally learned who he really was, finally learned his destiny. And now it was time to leave.

Turning, he glanced around to see if he had forgotten to pack anything. He looked under the bed, found nothing, then turned to his bedside table. He pulled out his wand and undid the Sticking Charm he had placed on the drawer so that it couldn't be opened. There was also a Curse on it of his own invention, but it would only affect someone other than himself who was nosy and foolish enough to undo the Sticking Charm. Then he pulled the drawer open.

Inside, he kept the things he wanted no one else to see. His diary, his first Horcrux, a piece of his soul, lay there. Loads of parchment, filled with his notes on Horcruxes, necromancy, the left-handed path, and ritualistic Dark magic no one needed to find. Underneath these things, his first letter from Hogwarts, handed to him by Albus Dumbledore, telling him he'd been accepted, his first proof that he was in some way exceptional. He removed these items, then swept his hand to the back of the drawer. His fingers brushed something soft, which he grasped and pulled out. An emerald green quill with a silver serpent on it, a gift from Luna Lovegood.

Sitting on his bed, setting the parchment, letter, and diary to the side, he inspected the quill. He hadn't looked at it in well over a year. Luna had said goodbye. He had thrown the quill into the back of the drawer the same day. He had not gone looking for it since.

Picking up his wand again, he tapped the silver snake, causing it to slither up the quill. He watched the snake's progress for a moment, and allowed his mind to wander. The familiar feeling, as if a vacuum existed in his chest, returned. He raised his wand again, intending to incinerate the quill, but then he hesitated. No, perhaps he would keep it. It would serve as a reminder of the utter foolishness he had displayed when it came to the girl. Remind him to never make those same mistakes again.

Tom stood back up, carrying these last of his belongings and adding them to the trunk. He shut the trunk, transferred the Curse on the bedside table to the trunk, then peered in the mirror by the door. Wearing his black school robes, Slytherin tie around his neck, Head Boy badge pinned to his chest, he brushed his hair back carefully, then removed a bit of lint from his sleeve. With a last glance around the dormitory, he headed up to the Great Hall for the feast.

Somewhere between the dungeons and the Great Hall, his practiced demeanor, worthy of Hogwarts' Head Boy and top student, had worked its way back onto his face, and it was with a confident smile that he entered the feast, where most of the students were already assembled. The Hall was decorated in the silver and green of Tom's house, as Slytherin had won the House Cup for the year, thanks in no small part to Tom himself.

"There he is!" cried one of the Slytherins as he entered, and many heads turned along the table to greet him. Sitting down, he engaged in conversation with his Housemates until Headmaster Dippet stood up, asking all the seventh years to make their way to the front of the Hall for the graduation ceremony.

Dippet called each of the seventh years' names one at a time, calling them forward to shake his hand to the applause of the student body and faculty. As Head Boy, Tom's name was called last, just after the Head Girl's, and there was a noticeable crescendo in cheers, particularly from the Slytherin table, as he swept forward to shake the Headmaster's hand.

"Well, done, Riddle," Dippet said, gripping Tom's hand. "Rarely has Hogwarts seen such a talented student. I do apologize again that I'm not prepared to give you the Dark Arts job, as we discussed, you're just a bit too young. But not to worry - I am certain you will go on to do great things, great things indeed. I wouldn't be surprised if you were Minister of Magic some day!"

Tom's smile returned, and he offered a slight bow to his Headmaster in respect. "I understand completely, sir. Thank you very much."

The following morning, as the other students piled into the thestral-pulled carriages to go back to the train, the freshly-graduated seventh years boarded the small boats they had sailed across the lake to start their first year at Hogwarts. A morning fog was on the lake, lending a ghostly light to their departure, and Tom stared up at the castle as they moved across the glassy water, watching the only home he had ever known move farther and farther away.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey held a goblet to Luna's lips. "Drink it, you'll be in less pain."

Sweat beading on her forehead as she lay in a bed in the Hospital Wing, Luna drank the potion. Immediately, the labor pains dulled and she felt more able to think clearly.

Ginny Weasley stood anxiously at her bedside, brown eyes full of concern. They had been at the Halloween feast, when Luna had suddenly stood up, crossed the Hall to Gryffindor table, and laid a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "I believe my baby is coming right now," she said, voice distant, her other hand resting gently on rounded belly. Ginny had popped up immediately from her seat and escorted her to the Hospital Wing.

They were seventh years now, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville had graduated a few months prior. As such, it was only Ginny and Madam Pomfrey who were hovering over her as she prepared to give birth.

Luna had dutifully gone to Madam Pomfrey weekly to drink her prenatal potions. At the end of the school year in June, before Luna had gone back to stay at Grimmauld Place with Harry for the summer for her own protection, Madame Pomfrey had taught her to brew the potion herself. "Don't forget to take it," the nurse had said sternly. "I won't have you coming back in September round as crystal ball and telling me you've been neglecting your prenatal care for months." After reassuring the witch she would remember her potion, Madam Pomfrey had looked at her with pursed lips, her general disapproval giving way to motherly concern. "Are you certain you don't want to know the gender before you go?"

"I'm sure," Luna had replied.

"Breathe, Luna," Ginny said in the present moment. The red-headed witch grasped Luna's hand in her own, and Luna felt a surge of gratefulness at her presence.

Less than an hour later, the process no doubt sped along by Madam Pomfrey's skilled Healer magic, Luna heard a cry and Madame Pomfrey said, "Well done, my dear, you've done it!"

Luna collapsed backwards into her pillows, sweating even with the pain-killing potion and Madam Pomfrey's attentive care and assistance. The nurse busily inspected the crying baby, waving her wand over it, cleaning it up. Then Madam Pomfrey wrapped the child in a blanket, calming its cries, and crossed to Luna. Luna easily found the energy to sit up again, and Ginny leaned forward expectantly as Madam Pomfrey laid the swaddled infant in Luna's arms.

The moment Luna laid eyes on her baby, the world seemed to stop. Tears budded along her lower eyelids then freely fell down her cheeks, dripping onto the child's blanket. The softest black curls were sprinkled across the baby's scalp and enormous grey eyes stared up out of a tiny face. Luna's heart felt it would nearly explode. All the fears and doubts that had plagued her pregnancy fell away. In that moment, it seemed that everything in her entire life had brought her to here, to hold her child, to protect her child, to love her child.

"Congratulations," Madam Pomfrey said. "You've had a daughter."

Ginny was grinning uncontrollably. "Luna, she's lovely. She has your eyes."

Luna felt she had lost the ability to speak, and she was unable to tear her eyes away from her daughter's face. The baby made the smallest noise, and Luna's heart swelled even further.

"What will you name her, my dear?" Madam Pomfrey asked, discreetly wiping away a tear.

Without missing a beat, the name came to her, and Luna found her voice again, saying softly, "Violetta." She had not decided on names ahead of time, but looking at her daughter now, there seemed to be no other name possible.

"Violetta Lovegood," Madam Pomfrey said, then moved to write it down on the magical birth certificate she had prepared. "Born the thirty-first of October, at thirteen minutes to nine o'clock in the evening, in the year 1998. Mother, Luna Pandora Lovegood. Father, unknown. A middle name, my dear?"

Luna hesitated. "No. No middle name."

Later that night, after Ginny had gone to send owls to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville then off to bed, and Madam Pomfrey had retired to her private quarters, Luna bent low over the cot in which Violetta lay sleeping. She watched the infant's tiny chest rise and fall. She counted ten fingers and thumbs on her two little hands, with the littlest of nails. Luna brushed a hand along her daughter's head, touching the soft black hair there, then touched one of the baby's hands. In her sleep, Violetta grasped her mother's finger with the hand, closing around the end of Luna's finger.

A smile came to Luna's face. She supposed there was nothing in the entire world, not a magical creature proven to exist or otherwise, which was as astonishingly unbelievable as her daughter. "You're my universe," she whispered, and Violetta slept soundly, as though she already knew.

* * *

Caractacus Burke smoothed his greasy hair back and peered at the young man standing before him on the opposite side of the shop counter. Burke glanced down at the parchment again. "You want to work here?" he finally said suspiciously.

Tom Riddle nodded, standing straight, hands clasped behind his back. He glanced around the shop, making note of the variety of disturbing items for sale in the glass case to his left and the full-size mummified corpse displayed in a sarcophagus propped open behind the counter.

"What for?" Burke asked. He shook the parchment at Tom. "Top of all your classes? The strongest letters of recommendation from your professors? Why do you want to work in my shop?"

"I suspect my employment might be mutually beneficial, Mr. Burke," Tom said smoothly, looking down his nose at the parchment being waved in his face.

"In what way?" Burke demanded, setting the parchment aside.

Tom fought back impatience. "You will come to find I can be quite persuasive. I'm sure I can not only sell well for you, but also obtain valuable product for you."

Burke narrowed his eyes. "What's in it for you, boy?"

A lazy smile curled its way onto Tom's mouth. "Access, Mr. Burke."

* * *

"Good night, Luna," Hermione said, kissing Luna's cheek. "It was lovely to see you!" Hermione knelt to the ground, where a little girl, black hair gathered into two buns on the sides of her head and tied with little red bows, stood staring up at her. "And happy birthday again, Miss Violetta," Hermione said to the girl, kissing her as well.

Violetta threw her arms around Hermione. "Bye bye, Aunt Minny!" she said.

Luna turned to Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Neville who stood in front of the fireplace, preparing to leave. "Thank you again for coming, Violetta and I enjoyed having you all here," she said.

Harry looked down at the little girl, who was now inspecting the engagement ring on Hermione's finger with great interest. "I can't believe she's already two years old," he said.

"I can't either," Ginny agreed. "I remember her being born like it was yesterday."

Once they had all exchanged hugs and kisses, Luna scooped her daughter up and placed her on her hip. Harry was the last to step into the fireplace to Floo back to London. He pulled out his Dumbledore's Army coin. "Remember, Luna. We're all just moments away from you, if you need us." He looked to Violetta, then back to Luna. "Have to keep my goddaughter safe," he added with a smile.

Returning his smile, Luna nodded. "I know. Thank you, Harry. We'll see you soon. Happy Halloween."

Harry stepped into the fire and disappeared, leaving Luna and her daughter alone in the room.

"All right, my little love, it is well past your bedtime," Luna told her daughter. "Did you enjoy your birthday party?"

After over two years from the front page article in _The Daily Prophet_ regarding Professor Trelawney's most recent Prophecy, some of the fervor had died down. Initially, there had been a great deal of fear and uproar about the idea of Voldemort's heir amongst them, not to mention dozens of theories on who or where the heir and his mother might be. The most popular theories were certainly that the mother was a Death Eater, one of the ones still on the run from the Ministry. Curiously, most of the theories seemed focused on a male heir, although the Prophecy had never specified the child's gender. Luna and the Order members were somewhat grateful for this, as it seemed to make Violetta even less suspicious.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, as Minister of Magic, had done an admirable job at quelling some of the anxiety in the Wizarding world following the Prophecy. He assured them that there was no immediate danger from an infant, and when the problem arose - _if_ the problem arose, he was careful to say - the Ministry would be prepared to handle it. Indeed, his Aurors, headed by Tonks, quickly quelled any wizards who thought it wise to go around threatening mothers with young children for information. Over time, as life seemed to move on largely unchanged following the Prophecy, most people stopped thinking and worrying about it so much - if anything were to come of it, it was out of their hands for now.

Luna and Violetta, after Luna's graduation from Hogwarts, had been living a fairly nomadic life. Luna had been hired as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries, assisted in obtaining this position by Kingsley. She was tasked with traveling the globe and researching the magical traditions of ancient peoples, regarding everything from healing, love, and consciousness, to the soul, time, and death. She was currently stationed in Peru, studying Incan magic, and previously had been in Ethiopia, Hawaii, and Iran. It was not the Magizoology career she had dreamed of as a student, but it was an ideal arrangement: it was not only fascinating, something that allowed Luna ample opportunity to collect information that interested both her and the Department of Mysteries, but it also allowed her the protection of a top-secret Ministry position, keeping her location unknown and in flux.

For although the Wizarding world at large had, at least for the time being, allowed the thought of the Dark Lord's heir to fall out of immediate prominence, Voldemort's most faithful followers had not. As Luna and the Order had predicted, Bellatrix and the Death Eaters knew precisely who the mother of Voldemort's heir was.

The Auror department's hunt for the former Death Eaters fortunately kept them in the shadows, but Luna's first couple of months after graduation, when she and Violetta were living in London, were fraught with fear. Twice Luna had come face-to-face with Bellatrix during that time, narrowly escaping through the help of the Order, and each time, they had had to relocate.

When Luna got her first assignment in Ethiopia, Harry had expressed concern about Luna going by herself, but eventually it was decided there was little else to do. Luna and Violetta could not live under lock and key, and they could hardly hope for a more ideal job for her than one in which no one was permitted to disclose her location.

Harry and the Order did insist, however, that the Ministry provide Luna with additional protection. Kingsley and Tonks directly arranged for an Auror bodyguard to be with Luna at all times, on all her assignments. As Harry and Ron were still in their training process and not yet certified Aurors, a young man, only a few years older older than Luna herself, named Doyle Huxley, was chosen for the job.

Doyle now poked his curly-haired head out of his room on the lower level of the house as Luna carried Violetta towards the stairs to the upper floor. "How was the party?" he asked. He was a tall, thin man, eager to prove himself in his department.

"Lovely," Luna replied. "You didn't have to stay in your room, though, you could have joined us."

Doyle shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked at the ground. "That's very kind of you, Miss Lovegood, but I thought it would be nice for you to spend some time with your friends without me lurking in the corner." He looked up, eyes falling on Violetta. A strange look came over his face temporarily. "Did she have fun?" he asked, the look fading away as quickly as it had appeared.

The brief expression on Doyle's face did not go unnoticed by Luna, but she was unable to pinpoint the exact emotion it had been. Her inherent trusting nature was tinged with suspicion in the interest of protecting her child these days, and she paused to assess the man for a moment. So far, over the past year or so, he had always been kind to her, as well as to Violetta, and he had taken his job seriously, going so far as to place anti-Apparition charms on the residence to keep anyone from Apparating in or out and taking them by surprise.

She had no real reason not to trust him, and yet…over the past couple of months, ever since they had come to their newest assignment, she had found herself having a difficult time letting her guard down around him. It did not help assuage this new paranoid side of her that Othello was now refusing to leave Doyle alone with Violetta. Still, that part of her which was still herself, the part which wanted to see the best in anyone, prevented her from saying anything to Harry about it. Indeed, what would she say? That her pet didn't trust the man, so he had to be fired?

Luna shook herself mentally. It had been a struggle to remain herself over the past couple of years, between the loss of her father, the loss of Tom, and the need to protect Violetta. She would not let herself become bitter, fearful, and unduly distrustful.

Offering Doyle a smile, Luna said, "She did. Didn't you Violetta?"

The little girl in her arms giggled and smiled at Doyle, nodding.

Bidding Doyle goodnight, Luna carried Violetta upstairs. Changing her out of her red party dress and into pajamas, Luna then tucked her into her crib. "Story, Mummy," Violetta said, sitting up.

Luna acquiesced, beginning to recite the story of "The Wizard and the Hopping Pot" from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._ She did not get far before Violetta's eyes began to droop. As Luna talked in a dreamy voice about the father of the tale bequeathing the pot to his son, Violetta murmured sleepily, "What's father?"

Heart stopping in her chest, Luna's voice faltered in her story, flashes of Tom's face in her mind. "Darling, it's time for sleep now, and we can discuss that another time," she said after a moment.

Violetta did not respond; she had already dozed off.

Luna watched her daughter sleep for a moment. Violetta had not asked about Tom in any way before, though now that she was learning more and more words every day, Luna suspected it was only a matter of time. The child was quite precocious and loved stories, and it was inevitable that she would become acquainted with the concept of fatherhood in one way or another.

A great deal of thought had already been put into what Luna was going to say to Violetta about her father, just as a great deal of thought had been put into deciding against using the Time-Turner. This decision was further cemented by Violetta herself. Luna wanted the best for her daughter. Though Luna was admittedly, on occasion, reckless with her own well-being in regards to where she placed her love or trust, she could not afford to be so with Violetta at risk as well; walking with her daughter directly back into the life of the most powerful Dark wizard to ever exist seemed hardly like good parenting. And also, even if Tom never harmed Violetta directly, a fear occasionally wriggled its way into Luna's brain, though she tried to silence it, regarding the Prophecy and what exactly would come of Violetta if she were under her father's direct influence.

Through Violetta's curiosity and unguarded nature, Luna saw herself in her daughter, but there was no question at times who the child's father was. Not just in her black hair, not just in her nose, but the child had been showing a proclivity towards magic for some time already, could be tremendously stubborn even by a toddler's standards, and there were times when she threw tantrums that the very building seemed to shake beneath her little feet.

And, though Luna had not yet told Harry or her other friends this yet, it was just the other day that she had found Violetta near the door of their current home, which bordered the edges of the Peruvian cloud forest, surrounded by half a dozen snakes, with short hissing sounds coming from her mouth as she clapped and laughed. The snakes had not once moved to harm Violetta; indeed, they seemed to only want to be near her. Still, Luna had scooped the child up and levitated the snakes back outside with her wand, despite her daughter's protests.


	5. Chapter Five: Trapped

.

 **Dark Matter  
** Chapter Five: Trapped

* * *

 _If you see her out there, climbing the wall,  
_ _trying to get away,  
_ _tell her she can't escape.  
_ _Whole damn world is a cage.  
_ See Her Out (That's Just Life) - Francis and the Lights

* * *

Luna sat across from a very old Peruvian witch named Elena. This was Luna's eleventh time visiting with Elena, and she was quite fond of the woman. Elena was a descendent of Incas, coming from a long, powerfully magical line, her ancestry dating back to the shaman who served Viracocha, the Sapa Inca of the early 15th century. She had grown up outside of Cusco and had been educated at Castelbruxo, and she was one of the few people alive who knew both modern magic as well inheriting the secrets of the traditional magic of her ancestors. Her branch of expertise happened to be soul-magic. She had made an immediate judgement of Luna's character upon their first meeting, and, over the course of their visits, taught Luna all she knew about the Inca concept of soul-splitting, something that could occur when the soul experienced a number of different traumas. Their last few visits had been devoted to Elena's explanation of the ritual of soul-retrieval.

"The process of uniting the soul can be very painful, and without guidance, without assistance, a person may not survive it," Elena explained. "It all depends, you see. It depends on what it was that split the soul, if it was intentional or otherwise. And what was the intent? Those who have split the soul with evil intent are the least likely of all to survive, for they have committed a crime against the very soul itself, and to heal such a grievous injury is the most painful experience known. And understand this, girl," the old woman said, raising a finger, "the soul-owner must _want_ to be restored. If they do not, you may as well shout from the top of Huayna Picchu and hope they hear you in Cusco."

Luna found her sessions with Elena to be of great professional and personal interest, and it didn't hurt that Elena also happened to be one of the cleverest and kindest witches Luna had ever met.

They were in Elena's home, sitting at her scrubbed wooden table. Violetta crawled under the table, keeping herself entertained with Elena's little black Goeldi's marmoset, who was equally fascinated by the little girl and chittered with happiness every time his and Violetta's hands touched. Doyle Huxley stood guard outside the front door, pacing back and forth.

"We're leaving soon," Luna told Elena. "I'm afraid I will miss you a great deal. Thank you for everything you've shown me."

"Of course, of course," Elena said, waving a hand, speaking in heavily accented but otherwise perfect English. "You are a good girl; you will take care of our knowledge, I know it. I will miss you, and also your beautiful daughter. Thank you for spending some time with an old woman; you have brought me a great deal of joy."

"And you to me."

"I will keep an eye out for this Umgubular Slashkilter you suspect might be around this area."

Luna smiled lightly. "If you do see one, let me know. I would be most interested."

Elena eyed Luna critically for a moment. "Don't doubt yourself, girl."

"I..." Luna's voice faded out as she considered what she wanted to say. "I suppose it's just that I rather doubt you will see an Umgubular Slashkilter. There was a time when I would have been quite sure of it, but now I'm not sure at all. It's possible I'm just learning there are things that simply don't exist, but I feel as if I am losing a part of myself, that I'm losing my faith."

"I haven't known you for long, but what I see is not a girl who has lost her faith. You believe everything I tell you, don't you? Perhaps you just have found better things to believe in. Perhaps you find the world extraordinary enough already."

A squeal of laughter came from under the table, and Violetta went running out on her little legs with the monkey following behind her. The little girl then ran up to Luna's side, pulling on the sleeve of her sweater. "Chase!" she told her mother, before running off again with the marmoset in close pursuit. Luna watched her daughter with a smile, the faintest echo of an ache in her heart.

"You see him in her, don't you? You still are so broken-hearted over the little girl's father?" Elena asked shrewdly.

Luna's smile faded a bit. "Yes. I think I might always be. He was very important to me." She had never spoken about Tom with Elena, but she knew it was pointless to lie to the woman. She was far too astute, and Luna far too poor a liar.

Elena nodded, then held out her ancient hands across the table, gesturing for Luna to take them. Once Luna had done so, she gently squeezed Luna's hands. "That's alright, that's alright. That means you loved him with your soul. Remember your strengths, girl."

The old woman's eyes fell shut and she began swaying almost imperceptibly back and forth. Luna knew what she was doing, as Elena had done it several times before now, and had even taken the time to teach Luna how to do it herself. But she was still moved when the light appeared, streaming steady and white off of each of them, as if each of their individual atoms were the tiniest beacon of soul-stuff. The faintest barrier was present between their two energies, where one of them ended and the other began.

Elena opened her eyes and smiled at Luna. "Your soul. You have a good, strong one. You will do just fine."

* * *

Back at their temporary home, Doyle offered to take Luna's cloak upstairs for her, as Violetta was repeatedly insisting she was hungry, even though she had just eaten quite a bit at Elena's house. Luna handed Doyle her cloak gratefully, and he disappeared up the stairs to put it in her room for her.

She prepared some food for Violetta, who promptly began refusing to eat as soon as she sat down at the table. "Play, Mummy," she said sullenly, pushing the plate away from her.

"Violetta, you said you were hungry," Luna said, propping her tired head on her hand.

"Violetta's not hungry," the girl argued.

"I've prepared all this food for you, and now you don't want it."

Violetta paused, frowning at her mother. For a moment, she was all Tom, and Luna was fairly sure a tantrum was on its way. Instead, Violetta reached out a hand, grasped a single handful of food from the plate in front of her, and shoved it into her mouth. "All done?" she asked, mouth full.

A laugh bubbled up inside Luna. She stroked Violetta's hair. "Yes, very well, a valiant effort. You can be all done."

Just as Violetta ran off to play, Doyle cleared his throat from the doorway. "She's funny," he said as Luna looked up. "Real sweet, real smart. Didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"She is," Luna agreed.

"Got quite the temper on her too, hasn't she?" Doyle said, sitting down at the table across from Luna.

Luna tilted her head to the side. "Yes. I do apologize again that she shattered your Sneakoscope the other day when you took it back from her."

"No worries, Miss Lovegood, it wasn't an expensive one. I wonder where she got that from, though."

"What do you mean?" Luna asked.

"Well, surely it wasn't from you," Doyle explained. "I've never seen you get mad, Miss Lovegood. Must've come from her father, I suppose."

Luna stared at him steadily, assessing what he meant. The young Auror met her gaze for a few seconds, then dropped his eyes to the table, where he twiddled his fingers. Doyle wasn't supposed to know who Violetta's father was; it had been under the condition of secrecy that Kingsley had permitted a non-Order member to be her bodyguard. "Yes, I suppose so," Luna said after a moment.

"Sorry, Miss Lovegood. I wasn't meaning to pry."

"It's fine, Doyle," she said benignly, though she still watching him without blinking. "We should discuss the moving plans, since we leave the day after tomorrow for London."

* * *

In the early hours of the morning after putting Violetta to bed that night, hardly much after midnight, Luna awoke suddenly to a sharp pain in her left hand. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she realized that Othello had bitten her, something he had never done before, and he was now staring at her, his fur on end, eyes reflecting the faint moonlight in the room.

Immediately sensing the Kneazle's signals, Luna found herself wide awake. She listened to the quiet house intently. At first she heard nothing - then the unmistakable sounds of movement downstairs, of someone trying not to be heard.

Terror rose like bile inside Luna's throat in a way she had only known since becoming a mother.

Luna scrambled out of bed as quietly as possible. She crossed stealthily to the door and cracked it open to listen better. The moment the door was open, Othello darted out into the hall and disappeared into the dark, much to Luna's distress, though she dared not make a sound to stop him. It sounded as though there were potentially several people downstairs. Where was Doyle?

She tiptoed back across the room to where her cloak hung on a hook by the window. She plunged her hand into the pocket, reaching for her Dumbledore's Army coin to call her friends to her aid - but it wasn't there. Heart thudding so loudly she worried they would hear it all the way downstairs, she quickly reached into the other pocket, still finding no coin. She double-checked both pockets, knowing she had had it in her cloak when she went to Elena's earlier that day - and then she knew. Doyle had brought her cloak upstairs. Doyle had betrayed them.

Grabbing the robes she had taken off earlier, she pulled them on over her pajamas, her purse of Galleons inside the pocket, slipping her shoes on as quickly as possible, knowing she might need them if she had to run. She had just picked up her wand when there was a great commotion downstairs, as a horrible screaming sound broke the silence of the house, followed immediately by shouts of pain. It sounded as though Othello had attacked the intruders while caterwauling.

Violetta awoke from all the racket and started crying, afraid. Luna picked her up and held her in one arm, her wand in the other. Crossing to the window, Luna tried to open it only to find it enchanted shut. Unlocking charms did not work, and when she tried to shatter it with a spell shot from her wand, the spell bounced right off the magically-enhanced glass and struck the opposite wall with a bang. Doyle had clearly thought of all of these things ahead of time.

There was still a great deal of noise coming from downstairs. The intruders, knowing their cover had been blown by the Kneazle, were no longer trying to be quiet at all, and were instead yelling and sending spells back and forth, no doubt trying to curse Othello.

Crossing the room to the door again, Luna flung it wide open and hurried down the hall with Violetta in her arms. She crouched down low as she approached the stairs, though with Violetta crying, she was sure the intruders knew exactly where she was. In the dark, it was difficult to see what was going on, but there were several dark shapes in the main room, and when spells lit the room with flashes of light, Luna could make out several Death Eater masks.

Terrified, but knowing they had no way out upstairs, Luna began down the stairs, hoping she could make it to the door and escape.

"Dammit, you're hitting me!" cried one of the Death Eaters as he was hit by a jinx that was aimed at Othello. From what Luna could tell, the Kneazle was leaping from Death Eater to Death Eater at high speed, inflicting as much damage as possible with his teeth and claws before bounding to the next to avoid being struck by any spells.

One of the Death Eaters' dark shapes broke from the rest of the group, bobbing around the edge of the room towards Luna and Violetta. " _Crucio_!" cried the Death Eater, a female voice - Bellatrix.

Luna dropped to the ground just in time for the Curse to go whizzing over her head. Bellatrix was now between Luna and Violetta and the door. Another Death Eater seemed to have noticed Luna was downstairs, and he pointed his wand towards her as well. Unable to properly fight back with her child in her arms, Luna began to retreat back up the steps, trying to stay low to avoid being hit. She was halfway up the steps when a hand closed around her ankle, pulling her down, her elbow thumping painfully on one of the steps.

"You will not get away this time," Bellatrix panted, holding tightly to Luna's leg even as Luna tried to kick free. "That child does not belong to you."

Upon seeing Bellatrix's mask up close, Violetta shrieked ever louder. Some invisible force seemed to hit Bellatrix in the chest extremely hard, causing her to topple down the stairs, letting go of Luna in the process.

"Well done, my love," Luna muttered to Violetta, scrambling back to her feet and rushing up the rest of the stairs.

Othello was still doing his best to keep the Death Eaters at bay, but another one now barged up the stairs after Luna and Violetta. Once at the top the staircase, Luna pointed at it and whispered, " _Glisseo_!" The Death Eater on the stairs face-planted and slid downwards as the staircase transformed into a smooth slide underneath his feet.

Rushing back into their bedroom, Luna pushed the door partially shut behind her. She had bought herself precious moments with the slide trick, but now what? As adrenaline pumped through her veins and Violetta wailed in her ear, Luna was briefly at a loss and felt as trapped and hopeless as an animal in a cage. Her bodyguard had betrayed her. He knew the house, all the windows would be like the one in this room. She could not Apparate out, due to his anti-Apparition spells placed under the guise of her protection. He had even taken her D.A. coin. She had no help, and she could not get out. She could not get Violetta out.

An idea flashed like lightning in her mind. Skidding to a stop in front of her trunk, she sat Violetta on the ground and ripped the trunk open. Tearing through her things, throwing them across the room, she found the Time-Turner.

On her knees, she gathered Violetta into her arms. "Othello!" Luna cried, praying the Kneazle would hear her and make it to them in time. She could hear the Death Eaters slamming up the staircase; she wasn't sure if they had reversed her spell, or if they were clumsily scaling the slide, but it didn't matter; they would be there soon.

Suddenly, a flash of grey darted into the room through the crack in the door as Othello appeared, his lion tail flying behind him. He bounded into Luna's lap and immediately began to nuzzle Violetta's cheeks, wiping away her fearful tears with his furry head.

Luna lifted the chain of the Time-Turner to enclose all three of them in it together, then wrapped her arms around her family. She hesitated for a split-second as she stared at the little hourglass, terrified of going back in time, of what awaited her in the past. A loud blast echoed in the hall, then the door was blown off its hinges, revealing several masked Death Eaters. Violetta wailed louder and buried her face into Luna's shoulder, and Luna had no more time to think as one of the Death Eaters raised their wand - she sent the hourglass spinning on its axle.

The Death Eaters filling her vision suddenly began dissolving, and Luna, with her daughter and her Kneazle, were suddenly ripped backward in time. Othello's claws dug into Luna's skin, and Violetta seemed to be shrieking louder than ever, though Luna could not hear it as the sound disappeared into time as soon as it left her mouth.

Luna had been kneeling when she used the Time-Turner, and when the three of them suddenly arrived in the past, the ground met her knees painfully, and she toppled over, rolling quickly with Violetta and Othello in her arms to avoid landing on them. Her back instead landed in something very cold and wet, and Luna gasped for air to steady herself, realizing her eyes were shut tightly.

After several deep breaths to slow her racing heart somewhat, Luna began to take stock of what was going on around her. Water was falling steadily on her face - rain, it was raining, and rather hard. Violetta was still crying. Luna opened her eyes, blinking away the raindrops, and forced herself to sit up. She released her death grip on Othello, as he was now struggling to stand on his own. He hopped off her lap to look around, but stayed by her side. She began murmuring comforting words to Violetta to calm her with only minimal success and peered around herself.

It was nighttime, dark out, and the rain had been persisting long enough to allow large puddles to form in the cobblestone alleyway. A cold wind whipped along the alleyway past them, fluttering Luna's robes. No one else seemed to be around. To her immediate left was a store with a sign over it that read Tallow and Hemp Toxic Tapers; to her right, a large shop named Borgin and Burkes with what appeared to be a mutated skull in the front window. Luna shivered, wishing she had had time to put on a cloak as goosebumps broke out across her skin and the cold water seeped through her clothes, chilling her to the bone.

Dropping kisses into Violetta's hair, Luna stood up from the ground, wrapping Violetta under her robes to try to keep her out of the rain. Glancing around, she spotted a narrow staircase leading off the alley, with a dingy, dark looking pub partway up the stairs. A worn wooden sign hanging out front advertised the pub as The White Wyvern. Gathering herself, Luna hurried up the steps towards the pub with Othello at her heels.

Blessedly, the pub's door was unlocked, though Luna had no idea what time of night it was. Luna, Violetta, and Othello spilled through the door, Luna pulling the door shut against the rain behind them, then stood dripping inside, the wind howling menacingly just beyond the door.

It was not much lighter inside than it was out in the night, the only light coming from three dim, cobwebbed lamps hanging above the bar to the right. The front of the bar was lined with moth-eaten stools, and behind it were shelves of dusty, dark bottles with rather ominous-looking labels, none of which Luna was particularly interested in trying. To the left were several small wooden tables with chairs around them, though they were all empty at the moment. A narrow, misshapen staircase led upstairs in the back corner, and behind the bar was the pub's current only occupant. The barman was a short, thin wizard, hardly taller than Luna herself, with a bald head, leathery skin as though he had spent far too much time in the sun, and an enormous grey mustache. When she entered, he watched her with suspicious brown eyes.

"We don't allow beasts in here," he said in a reedy voice, pointing a crooked finger towards Othello, who had begun grooming the water out of his fur at Luna's feet.

"I'm sorry, sir," Luna said, bowing, eliciting a look of surprise from the barman. "I was just wondering - please, is there someplace where we could stay for the night?"

The elderly barman eyed her, taking in her dripping hair, her face that betrayed her desperation, and Violetta, who was still hiccupping and sniffling quietly in upset, her black curls just peeking out of Luna's robes where she was wrapped protectively. He seemed to teeter on the edge of a decision, then frowned when he appeared to have made one. "I have a room upstairs that I rent out at times. It's nothin' fancy, mind you, but it's a far sight better than sleeping out on the street. Your little beast can stay with you, but it's not to come down to my pub, you hear?"

"I would very much appreciate it, sir," Luna said gratefully.

The barman pursed his lips at her, saying nothing in response, and tottered out from behind the bar. He beckoned her to follow with an arthritic hand as he moved towards the narrow staircase at the back of the pub. Luna followed, gesturing to Othello to come with them.

Up the stairs was a dark hallway, numerous crates piled up haphazardly on either side, exacerbating the general claustrophobia of the building. The barman lead her along the hallway, walking along the faded rug that ran the length of it. "This is my office, and this is my private quarters," he said, pointing to the first two rooms along the hall, "and you're to go in neither. The toilet's through there, and it's the only one besides the one for customers, so we'll be sharing family-like. And this will be where you'll be staying, then." They had stopped outside the fourth and final black wooden door along the hall, with an ancient brass knob. The barman pushed the door open, then reached in his pocket to pull out his wand. With a wave, he lit the lamp hanging from the ceiling.

The light revealed a small bedroom, sparse and clearly rarely used. The bed sat on a heavy, carved wooden bedframe with old yellowed sheets. A small wooden desk sat in one corner, a full-length mirror with grimy glass in the other. The walls were covered in peeling wallpaper in a brocade pattern of black and dark green, and long thick curtains were pulled closed over the only window, lending a cave-like feeling to the space.

Luna turned to the barman. "It's lovely, it's perfect. Thank you so much. What do I owe you?"

The barman blinked, obviously having expected a less enthusiastic reaction. "Six Sickles per night."

Finding her money pouch in the pocket of her robes, Luna counted out the appropriate coins and pressed them into the barman's hand. "I'm Luna Lovegood, by the way."

Pocketing the coins, the barman gruffed, "Lazarus." At that moment, Violetta gave another sniffle, drawing Lazarus' eyes. Then he turned back to the room, viewing it critically under wild grey eyebrows. "I suppose you'll need…." He waved his wand again, and the bedside table suddenly was Transfigured into a cot for Violetta. He turned to go.

"Lazarus," Luna said, causing him to look back at her. "One last thing - do you have a copy of today's _Daily Prophet_ I may have?"

" _Accio_ newspaper," Lazarus said, pointing his wand towards the staircase at the end of the hall. A moment later, the newspaper zoomed up the stairs, down the hall, and into his hand. He then passed it on to Luna. "It's after midnight, so it's technically yesterday's paper, but you can have it just the same."

"Thank you again, sir."

Beginning to totter away from her down the hall, Lazarus muttered, "Don't need to run around calling me 'sir'."

"Goodnight," Luna said to his retreating back, which earned her a half-hearted wave of acknowledgement and nothing more. As his stooped back disappeared down the stairs, Luna stepped inside the room she had just rented and shut the door behind her.

Othello leaped up onto the bed at once, then continued to groom his fur. Luna laid _The Daily Prophet_ down on the desk in the corner, then moved towards the bed. She sat Violetta on the bed next to Othello and then reached in her pocket for her wand.

"Mummy," Violetta protested, raising her arms to be picked up again.

"My love, we have to dry your wet things, you're sopping." Luna hovered her wand over her daughter, using a Hot-Air Charm to dry the child's clothes.

Luna then took a moment to scratch under Othello's chin appreciatively. "You were very brave, you know. You saved us. You're not hurt, are you?" The Kneazle licked her hand in reassurance.

She used the Hot-Air Charm on her own soaked robes, shivering as she did so. Then, seizing the newspaper again, she sat beside Violetta on the bed. Violetta promptly began to crawl into Luna's lap, so Luna picked her up under her arms and plopped Violetta into her lap so they could look at the newspaper together.

The date across the top of the front page read _6 November 1948._


	6. Chapter Six: Awry

.

 **Dark Matter  
** Chapter Six: Awry

* * *

 _Curse the things that made me sad for so long.  
_ _Yeah, it hurts to think that they can still go on.  
_ _I'm happy now.  
_ _Are you happy now?  
_ Blush - Wolf Alice

* * *

"Why do you suppose he sent us to 1948?" Luna asked Othello the morning after arriving in the past. The three of them had had managed to get a few more hours of sleep before waking, and Luna was brushing Violetta's hair with her fingers to get out any knots. "Perhaps this was a foolish assumption - Mother always used to say that assumptions were antithesis to inquisition - but I always thought the Time-Turner would take us back to just when we left the first time, in 1944. What do you think?"

Othello did not appear altogether concerned with the year, as he was cleaning his furry belly with his tongue.

"What a curious thing to do. There must be a reason why this is the time he chose in his past to send us. Since we arrived on the same day of year that we left, there must have been a range of dates he found acceptable to arrive, perhaps an entire year. I wonder what he found so important about this year of his past?" She picked Violetta up under the arms and set her on her feet on the floor. "Darling, we need to get you clothes. Time travel unfortunately does not come with the appropriate wardrobe, and you can't wear your pajamas all the time."

"Why not?" Violetta asked.

"That's a very good question, my love, and I'm proud of you for asking. I suppose someone at some point decided that we must have different clothes for sleeping as for being awake, and it's stuck ever since."

"Why?"

"Another astute question. It's possible that this was all a clever ruse by a seamstress or tailor who sought to have us purchase twice as many clothes from them as before. It's difficult to say for sure, however. Regardless, we will both be getting a new wardrobe today. But first, we need to send an owl. I may have to cope with losing my friends in the future, but I still might have some now." Luna turned to Othello, who was now cleaning between his outstretched toes. "Are you going to spend the entire day bathing? What are your plans?"

The grey Kneazle turned his face towards Luna and meowed.

"Very well, we shall leave you to it. Don't forget that if you do go wandering around, you're not supposed to be in Mr. Lazarus' pub downstairs." When the Kneazle meowed again in a disgruntled sort of way, Luna said, "I know, I agree. But this is someone else's home, and he's been quite kind by letting us stay here, so we ought to follow his rules." She scratched under the Kneazle's chin. "Behave yourself."

After Othello gave her hand a reassuring lick with his sandpaper tongue, Luna pulled her robes from the night before over her own pajamas. The sack of Galleons in her pocket was heavy, as she had taken to keeping more money on her person over the past two years. This was in part due to frequently being abroad, and in part just in case something happened and she was, for some time, unable to access her vault at Gringotts. Still, the majority of her money, both in her earnings and her inheritance from her parents, was inaccessible to her now that she was in the past.

Luna carried Violetta down the stairs and into the pub, where Lazarus was already at his post behind the bar. "Good morning, Lazarus!" Luna said.

The old barman paused in polishing glasses with a towel and inspected Luna and Violetta from under bushy eyebrows. "Good morning," he gruffed back.

Violetta was in a far better mood than when they had arrived the night before, and she squirmed in her mother's arms. "Down, please!" Once Luna had acquiesced and set Violetta's bare feet on the ground, Violetta ran across the pub and up behind the bar to Lazarus.

"What have we now?" the wizard said, looking down at the little girl at his heels.

"Come! See!" Violetta said, extending her arms up over her head at Lazarus. Lazarus frowned, but set his glass and rag aside, kneeling with creaking bones to the floor next to Violetta. She had a critical look on her face as she reached with both hands to feel the old man's mustache. "What's this?" she asked in a serious tone.

"It's my mustache," Lazarus replied, his brusque voice somewhat dampened by his eyes crossing as he tried to watch her hands below his nose.

"Muss-tash," Violetta repeated, then breaking into a smile and turning toward Luna. "Mummy, muss-tash, look!"

"I see, darling. A very fine mustache, indeed," Luna replied.

Lazarus harrumphed, but Luna noted the mustache in question twitching as though he was fighting a smile. Using the bar to pull himself back to his feet with a wheeze, the barman asked Luna, "Are you checking out?"

"Actually, I was wondering if we might stay a bit longer. A few nights, perhaps. I can pay you up front, if you like," Luna said.

"The room isn't usually for rent," he said.

"I understand."

Violetta, still at Lazarus' side, pulled on his robes. "Muss-tash!"

Luna held her hand out towards Violetta. "Come here, my love. We must go on a two-part quest: part one for clothes, and part two for another establishment at which to stay." Once Violetta had come to her, Luna picked her up again. To Lazarus, Luna said, "Thank you very much for allowing us to stay with you. I just need to get my Kneazle from upstairs, then we'll be on our way."

Lazarus pursed his lips, watching Luna as she turned to return back to the stairs, Violetta peering over her mother's shoulder back at him. Violetta gave him a small wave as Luna carried her towards the stairs. She was halfway across the room again when he spoke. "Didn't say you couldn't stay."

"Sorry?" Luna asked, turning back around.

"You can rent the room. For a while."

"Are you sure? I would hate to think that you're just saying that to be kind, but you really would rather us not stay here."

Lazarus looked perplexed at her bluntness, then regained his gruff composure. "Now, I'm not going to tell you again. You can either stay or not, 'tis up to you. Same rate as before."

Smiling, Luna dug a handful of coins out of her money pouch and gave them to Lazarus. "You are a truly generous spirit, Lazarus. Now, perhaps you can tell me where we might buy some new clothes?"

"There's no robes shop on Knockturn Alley, but if you go over to Diagon Alley there's Twilfitt and Tattings. And of course the second hand shop."

"Knockturn Alley?" Luna said. "I should have known by the grim decor. You see, I've never been to your Alley before."

"But didn't you know where you were? And it's not my Alley," Lazarus asked.

"I mean, obviously I was precisely where I happened to be, and I knew _that,_ but sometimes the _details_ of one's location are more elusive." Lazarus stared at her, but Luna continued, "Thank you very much, sir. We must get some new clothes, and it's quite convenient we are so near to Diagon Alley. What is your favorite color today, Violetta?"

"Red!" cried the little girl.

"Wonderful!" Luna said, beaming. "A red cloak it is. One more question, sir, if you don't mind?"

"You really don't need to be callin' me 'sir'," grumbled Lazarus.

"Where can I find an owl to send a letter?" Luna asked.

Lazarus pointed one of his knobbly fingers towards the back corner of the pub. There, almost invisible in the shadows, a large barn owl sat perched on one of the arms of an otherwise empty coat rack. The owl looked as ancient as Lazarus himself, and its white face shone out of the darkness like a ghost. "You can use my owl, Ferdinand. Assuming he still knows how to fly. Haven't sent him anywhere for a bit."

The ancient owl hooted in a feeble way when he realized they were all staring at him. Luna could almost hear his beak creaking from underuse to do so. She drifted over to the owl with Violetta in her arms, and Ferdinand eyed her with dull black eyes she was sure had glittered with life at some time.

"Ferdinand," Luna said to the owl, "would you mind delivering a letter for me?" When Ferdinand had hooted once more, Luna offered her hand to the owl in friendship. The owl's head twitched from side to side as he peered at her fingers, then he nibbled on the tip of one of them. "I'll take that as a yes," Luna said, then set Violetta down on the floor once more.

As Violetta scampered back over to further inspect Lazarus' mustache, Luna spotted some parchment, a jar of ink, and a quill behind the bar. Borrowing these, she jotted a note down. Once she was done writing, she rolled the small piece of parchment up. She turned to Ferdinand, who promptly held his leg out for her, as though he hadn't missed a day of delivering mail. Luna tied the parchment to his leg, then stroked his wilted feathers.

"Please take this note to the witch Catalina Litner for me. I'm not sure where she is, but I'm sure you will find her. You seem very wise," Luna told the owl. She held her arm out for Ferdinand to step onto, then held her other hand out for Violetta. "Come along, my love, we have a quest to complete."

Violetta pattered back over and allowed herself to be picked up. Her child in one arm and the old owl on the other, Luna headed for the door, sending a warm smile at Lazarus.

* * *

Tom leaned across the table toward Xavier Runcorn, a seasoned Auror with the hood of his cloak up to obscure his face. "And how did you get it?" he asked.

The two men were in the Hog's Head Inn, both dressed in all black. On the table between them, carefully laid on cloth, was an elaborate opal necklace.

"I took it from the office, of course. Allowed it to be processed, then snatched it. Thought it might be worth a good deal to the right buyer," Runcorn replied in a hushed voice, his eyes darting around the pub to see if anyone was listening.

"The right buyer?" Tom said, raising an eyebrow.

"Seems right up your alley, Riddle," Runcorn said, "based on what you've bought from me before. They say it's been the cause of death of nineteen Muggles already. The smallest touch to the skin is all it takes. Dark curse, it is."

Tom smirked, even as his eyes glinted with interest. "Now, now, Runcorn, shouldn't you want such a dangerous artifact off the streets? You've never brought me something _this_ interesting before. It has all been Voodoo dolls, a clever and violent Chameleon Ghoul that was indistinguishable from a vase, that sort of thing. Child's play compared to this. You're an Auror, after all."

"Would you keep it down?" Runcorn hissed, glancing over his shoulder to see if they had been overheard. Once satisfied that the other patrons of the pub were still occupied in their own affairs, Runcorn turned back to Tom. "I could do a stint in Azkaban for selling you that, I could. Keep your damn voice down."

Leveling a bored look at the other man, Tom's lips made a thin line. "What a tragedy that would be. I would be utterly devastated by such a turn in events," he said in a monotone.

Runcorn scowled. "I could always take my business elsewhere if you're going to disrespect me. I could fetch a pretty Galleon for that from more people than just you and your dodgy boss."

"You won't," Tom said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms with a wry smile on his mouth.

"And what makes you think that, Riddle?" the other man whispered bitterly, slamming his palm on the surface of the table, causing their mugs of mead to rattle.

Tom's smile widened. "You certainly may try, but I assure you, you will regret the attempt."

Runcorn narrowed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head, as though deciding Tom was all bluster. "I don't have to take this from you." The man went to stand up, but when he tried to pull his palm off the table from where he had slapped it, he appeared unable to. He sat back down, looking irritated. "Very clever, Riddle, sticking my hand to the table. Now, let me go before we cause a scene, here, boy."

Still leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, Tom let out a chuckle that made the other man shiver. "What scene would that be? Renowned Auror caught in questionable pub selling Dark object that should have been in the Ministry as evidence? I don't think so."

On the last word, without Tom moving a muscle of his own, Runcorn's free hand flew out from under the table to hover with an open palm over the cursed necklace, still lying on the tabletop. Runcorn looked startled and, for the first time, afraid as his hand behaved of its own accord. "Oh, very clever, indeed," Runcorn muttered, his eyes on his hand over the necklace. "Wandless, wordless magic. We're all duly impressed."

"Thank you, Runcorn. Now what were we discussing? Ah, yes. The necklace here. How much are you asking for it?"

"It's no longer for sale to you," Runcorn spat.

Runcorn's hand dropped lower over the necklace. "But I would like to buy it," Tom said.

"Fine. Three hundred Galleons." Runcorn again tried to pull the palm of his wand hand off the table, but still he was stuck, unable to reach for his wand and unable to pull his hand away from the cursed necklace.

Tom's eyes flashed, and Runcorn's hand dropped ever lower, his palm hovering only centimeters from the opal necklace. "Do you take me for a fool, Runcorn?" Tom said.

In an obvious attempt at nonchalance, Runcorn replied, "I don't think you'll curse me right here in the middle of the pub. So no, I suppose I don't take you for a fool."

"You don't think I would do it?" Tom asked in a soft voice, dangerous smile returning to his face. "And why not? Who knows that you are here, other than myself? Did you tell your supervisors where you were going? Did you tell your wife? Who in this establishment would be altogether concerned about one less Auror on the Ministry's payroll? And do you think I could not convince those witnesses who were compelled towards honesty to rethink their moral impulses?"

As Tom spoke, Runcorn's hand continued to drop through the air, a fraction of a centimeter at a time. Tom uncrossed his arms and again leaned forward towards the other man, the amused expression on Tom's face at odds with the terror on Runcorn's.

"What do you have to lose, Runcorn? Why don't you try me? Why don't we see what happens? I wouldn't mind a little demonstration of this necklace's powers, anyway..."

"Fine," Runcorn bit out, his eyes wide, his palm stopping to hover just a hair above the necklace. "What's your offer?"

"Two Galleons."

In spite of the pulse racing in Runcorn's throat, he managed to let out a derisive snort. "You're mad."

Tom gave a casual shrug. "Perhaps. It's not to your favor if I am, though, is it?"

A moment of tension hung between the two men. The sounds of the other pub patrons cut through the scene: the clanking of mugs, the murmur of low voices.

"I'll tell you what, Runcorn. I'll give you five Galleons for it, and I won't ruin your life by revealing what you've been up to to the Ministry - more than you deserve - and you keep bringing me interesting objects," Tom said with false generosity.

After another moment, during which a bead of sweat slithered down the side of his face, Runcorn answered, "All right, you bastard, it's a deal."

Tom grinned, reached into his cloak pocket, and released Runcorn's hands. Runcorn jerked his hands away. After laying five Galleons down, Tom carefully wrapped up the cursed necklace, avoiding any contact with his skin. The bundle then disappeared inside his cloak.

Runcorn snatched the Galleons off the table and turned to leave.

"Runcorn," Tom called, and the Auror turned around. "Don't forget about our deal. I expect you to continue to bring me Dark curiosities. Give your wife and son my regards."

The Auror hesitated and for a moment seemed either about to argue or about to ask how Tom knew about his son. Instead, he gave a curt nod, then swept out of the pub.

Tom drained the rest of his mead, then left a handful of Knuts on the table to settle the tab. Raising the hood of his own cloak, he stood and went out through the same door Runcorn had gone a few moments before. He stepped out into the chill of the November air. He took a deep breath, then a moment later with a crack that echoed across the Hogsmeade street, he Disapparated.

He reappeared on the cobblestone street of Knockturn Alley, in a rain much lighter than had been falling the previous night, just in front of his place of employment.

"There you are, Tom!" said Walburga Black as Tom re-entered Borgin and Burkes through the front door. Walburga was wearing velvet black robes with a high lace neckline, her black hair set in elegant curls; she moved and spoke with the confidence, elegance, and entitlement of her wealthy pureblood upbringing. The witch had been speaking to Tom's employer, Caractacus Burke, who was leaning towards her over the counter with a rather lascivious expression.

Tom was well aware that she drew many men's eyes, not just those of Burke. He was also aware that the witch, fascinated with his Slytherin heritage, which had been confirmed to those closest to him during their years at Hogwarts, fancied him in spite of his contaminated blood from his father. Tom felt no genuine affection for her, but her connections coupled with her popularity made her a valuable tool to keep around. In addition to his contact with the Lestrange, Nott, Malfoy, and Avery families from school, Walburga provided him access to the Blacks, another powerful pureblood family. Since graduating from Hogwarts, he had entertained her just enough to keep her intrigued while holding her at arm's length. He knew eventually she would tire of his games and marry her cousin as her family expected her to do, but by then he would have established the ties he desired to her family.

"Well?" asked Burke. "What have you got for me?"

Tom strode across the shop to the counter where Walburga and Burke had been talking. He pulled the bundle containing the necklace out of his cloak pocked and laid it on the counter before his employer, flipping open the wrappings to reveal the necklace inside. The opals glittered in the dim light of the shop.

"Oh, it's beautiful," Walburga said, extending a hand towards it.

"I wouldn't touch it, if I were you," Tom said lazily. When Walburga paused and looked towards him, he added, "Cursed. It will kill you if you touch it."

Walburga withdrew her hand.

Burke reached under the counter and pulled out a loupe, holding the magnifying glass up to his eye to inspect the necklace more closely. "Interesting," said the greasy man. "How did the Auror department come by such an object?"

"It killed its nineteenth Muggle, apparently," Tom said, removing his cloak then leaning against the counter on his elbow.

"Interesting," Burke repeated.

"We were just talking about you before you came in, Tom," Walburga said, stepping closer to him.

"Were you?" Tom asked, sounding as uninterested as it was possible to sound.

"Yes," the witch answered. "We were discussing how clever you are and how you're the best employee Mr. Burke has had in ages. Isn't that right, Mr. Burke?"

Burke, still hunched over the necklace, grunted.

"That's very…," Tom started to say, but the words were caught in his throat partway through the sentence. He had glanced out the shop window over Walburga's shoulder and was quite sure his eyes were playing tricks on him. Ignoring Walburga's questioning words, he strode away from the counter to the grimy window for a better look.

Coming down the cobblestone alleyway was a witch with long, dirty blonde hair in a pale blue cloak with the hood up against the drizzle of rain. She was holding the hand of a small child, a little girl with black hair in the tiniest red cloak of her own, and in the other arm carried a large bundle of shopping purchases. The blonde witch was walking with an altogether too familiar gait, drifting between the other shoppers in the alleyway with a permanently bemused expression on her face as she gazed up at the passing storefronts. As the duo got closer to Borgin and Burkes, Tom realized the witch's wand was tucked behind her left ear for safekeeping, the tip poking out from under the hood of her cloak.

"Oh, well, would you look at that? It's that bizarre Lovegood girl from school," Walburga said.

Tom shot a glance at Walburga, not having realized she was now standing next to him looking out the window as well, then sought Luna out in the crowd once again, as though if he took his eyes off her she might be revealed to be a figment of his imagination after all.

"It looks like she procreated," Walburga added with a sniff. "I bet it was with a Mudblood; the blood traitor was always spending time with that sort at Hogwarts."

At this, Tom inspected the little girl further, tearing his eyes from Luna to do it. At first glance, it would have been possible to say the child was not Luna's at all given her dark hair, but when she laughed, when she pointed with eagerness at various uninteresting things, she looked so similar to her mother it was unmistakable. And indeed, the closer the two got to the shop window, the more obvious it was that their eyes were the exact same shade of grey.

The child was so young, no older than two years of age. A vice seemed to clamp down on Tom's chest, surprising him with its forcefulness. He had last seen Luna nearly five years ago; she was now ambling down the street with living proof that she had met someone after him. An irrational hatred for the little girl's father flashed across his mind like lightning. "Most likely," he replied to Walburga, cold voice disguising the hot coiling of rage, jealousy, and disgust inside him.

"You were rather...close to her for a while, weren't you, Tom?" Walburga asked, fluttering her long lashes in his direction as she turned from the window.

Tom's face darkened, and he tore his eyes from the window to cast a withering look at the witch next to him. "Perhaps you've mistaken me for someone who would be interested in reminiscing over my adolescence with you."

Walburga looked taken aback, and Tom was aware he had let his game with her slip too far. No matter, he would smooth it over later if need be. For now, he ignored the witch, stepped back out into the alleyway, and began to follow behind Luna's pale blue cloak without a formulated plan on what he was doing.

To his immense curiosity and surprise, Luna and the little girl made their way up the stone steps to the door of The White Wyvern pub and disappeared inside. Tom hesitated outside the door of the pub for a few moments before stepping inside himself.

Upon entering the dim pub, Tom's eyes immediately found Luna by her hair at the bar. She had stood the little girl on one of the stools and was removing her tiny red cloak while speaking to the ancient barman who stood behind the bar. Tom hovered in the doorway for a heartbeat, a mingle of regret and self-loathing at having come here in his mind.

Luna laid the child's cloak down, then removed her own, revealing bright violet robes. As he watched, Luna smiled at her daughter, and an agonizing ache Tom had convinced himself he was no longer capable of feeling struck him with such violence that all the air was forced from his lungs.

"What you want, lad?" The barman had spotted him, shooting an appraising look his direction. "Ain't you Burke's assistant?"

At the barman's words, Luna turned to look over towards the door where Tom stood, her benign smile still on her lips. When her enormous grey eyes settled on his, recognition unfurled behind them like smoke. Her expression, so full of the love with which she looked at her daughter, seemed almost unchanged as she looked at him but for a sadness tinging the edges. Tom found himself leaning forward without quite intending to do so, like the ocean tide longing for the distant moon.

"Oh, Merlin," Luna sighed.


	7. Chapter Seven: Boundless

.

 **Dark Matter  
** Chapter Seven: Boundless

* * *

 _Beautiful, God, your lips were holy,  
_ _but you were always lonely still.  
_ _So much pain, it wasn't graceful.  
_ _Life can be distasteful towards you.  
_ _I want to lay my body down, sink into your ground,  
_ _press my lips upon your brow.  
_ _I want to lay my body down, I can't go without,  
_ _because I'm forever bound.  
_ Forever Bound - Von Grey

* * *

Luna's mind had no sooner registered that Tom Riddle was once again standing in front of her across the pub than it had begun to race. She had not yet decided what she would do in the past. So many of her plans had gone awry. She had not yet decided what she would say to him, or if she would even seek him out. Certainly, she had not expected to see him so soon.

There were so many things - the truth of how they had come to meet, why she had left, what had happened since then, Violetta - oh, but Violetta. Above all else, she had to protect Violetta. But to see him standing there with his familiar frown, his tall, slender frame in robes as black as his hair, so solid, so real, after having to grieve him twice over, after having to settle for her memory of him for so long. Her heart ached. She took a step towards him before forcing herself to stop.

Tom was frozen by the door, staring at Luna. He then seemed to come back to life, though his movements were jerky and unnatural as he put his hands behind his back and stood straighter. Then he put his hands in his pockets. Then his hands came out of his pockets and clasped behind his back again. He cleared his throat. "Hello."

"Hello," Luna said back. She was failing to manifest anything appropriate to say to the occasion, and she saw a similar failure reflected back at her in Tom's fidgeting.

"You know each other, then?" Lazarus said in his gruff voice, disrupting the texture of the moment.

Both Luna and Tom started at his voice, having forgotten he was there.

"Old schoolmates," Luna said.

Tom gave a curt nod, then pointed to a table in the far corner of the pub, farthest away from Lazarus. "Shall we sit," he said, with no upward inflection to indicate a question being asked despite the words he had chosen.

"Of course," Luna said. She picked Violetta up under the arms and set her back down on the floor. Out of her shopping purchases, Luna pulled a stuffed toy unicorn that moved and whinnied when played with. She handed it to Violetta, who clapped with joy, and said, "Mummy's going to be talking to Tom here. Can you play for a bit on your own?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Luna caught Tom make a strange movement with his head, almost like a wince, when she said the word 'Mummy'. Violetta, on the other, was quite pleased with her new toy, and scampered behind the bar to show it to Lazarus, who was still keeping a suspicious eye on Tom.

Luna and Tom sat down at the corner table across from one another and inspected each other without pretense up close. Tom's face was older now, having lost the last remnants of boyhood that had still clung to him at age seventeen. A long moment passed during which she tried to count the dark eyelashes lining his eyes. Not for the first time, she wondered at how something so dangerous could be so beautiful.

"I've missed you," she found herself saying.

Tom's frown deepened. "Have you, now?"

"A great deal. I'm afraid I have so many things I would like to ask you that I'm struggling to choose the words. I'm quite discombobulated. Possibly Wrackspurts, although more likely just you. What are you doing in Knockturn Alley?"

"I work here. At Borgin and Burkes. What are _you_ doing here?"

"We're staying upstairs."

"No. I mean, what are you doing here." Again, his words were more of a statement or demand than a question.

"I...," Luna started, then her voice trailed off. She glanced to Violetta who was bouncing up and down, showing Lazarus the unicorn, then back to Tom. A niggling doubt formed in the back of her mind and ate at her: that Violetta might not be any safer here than she was in Luna's own time, that Tom was a potential danger, that he had already murdered four people - at least - and that at no point in their time together had he ever expressed significant remorse for what he had done. When she was sixteen, she had been able to trust him anyway, somehow. Or if she did not trust him, she at least was not afraid. She saw something in him that she had deemed more important.

Now, she was not sure. She _was_ afraid. She had been betrayed and hurt in a million different ways. She had lost enough. Now, there was Violetta. And the words of the Prophecy echoed in her mind.

"Let me guess," he hissed in her silence, "you can't tell me. Lots of secrets. It's all very mysterious. And you're _so_ sorry, Tom, but you simply can't say what's really going on."

His words stung. Memories of that day, that seemed so long ago now, when they had both been seventeen and she had told him she was leaving, echoed in her head at a painful pitch. She couldn't bring herself to lie to him, even if she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. "Yes," she whispered.

He let out a derisive scoff and looked away from her, as if he couldn't look at her anymore, and his entire body seemed to shake with barely controlled rage. "Ridiculous."

"I'm sor-"

"Do not say you're bloody sorry to me."

"What have you been up to the last few years?" she tried.

"The last five years?" he said, turning a withering stare back at her. "A great deal."

"Do you -"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Lovegood," he spat, the words dripping with contempt. "What do you think is going to come from this conversation? Are we exchanging pleasantries now like old friends who lost touch? Is that what you think is going to happen?"

Luna stared right back at him. "Then what did you follow me in here for?" she demanded in a quiet voice.

"To see if it was really you," he said. "To see if you really just thought you could turn back up here, as if you didn't…." This time, it was his voice that faded to silence.

Before Luna could respond, a pattering of small feet announced Violetta's arrival at the table. Violetta carried her stuffed unicorn with her and approached Luna. The little girl held her unicorn out to her mother. "Look, Mummy. Tom!"

Luna stared at the unicorn. "You've named your unicorn Tom, have you?" she asked.

"Yes," Violetta said, then began clambering her way into Luna's lap.

Luna glanced at Tom to see his reaction to this, but he seemed to be determined to look away from them. Helping Violetta into her lap, she said, "A very good name, my love."

The two adults at the table sat for several long moments in a silence that was nothing like the comfortable silence in which they had whiled away hours in the Hogwarts library together.

Luna watched him, the man she had loved, the father of her child, and was awed at the gap that seemed to yawn between them like the maw of some pit she could not cross. She had failed to make any difference in who he became once already. Not unlike her Humdingers and Wrackspurts and Snorkacks, the idea that kindness and love were always enough was another belief she had come to second-guess. Maybe Tom had always been out of her reach.

"Tom," she said, to get him to look at her. When he met her gaze, she searched his eyes unapologetically. He shifted in his seat, but did not look away, and just for a heartbeat, she thought she saw his anger flicker, the curtain drawn back for just a second to reveal something else, something that looked much like the hurt she felt herself.

Her mind set off at the speed of light again. She felt a shocking and fierce loyalty borne of the sort of love she felt for her mother, her father, her dearest friends, Violetta. The part of him that still hurt - that part was surely still possible for her to reach, to touch. And, she realized, her heart beginning to race along with her thoughts, why would he have sent her to this part of his past if he thought it would be useless? Why was this where she "needed to go"?

Perhaps there was a middle ground between risking telling him everything and not trying at all. Maybe she could protect Violetta and reach for him at the same time, and assess along the way what was safe to tell. She was afraid, but….

What did she still believe in?

Luna squeezed her daughter in a hug and felt a faint, dazed smile bloom onto her face as she looked at Tom over Violetta's head.

"Yes?" he demanded.

"I know you're very angry with me," she said, "and I know you don't want me to say I'm sorry, so I won't. And I know you're probably going to put up a lot of bluster at this idea, but if you're willing...I should very much like to spend some time with you again."

By the way his eyebrows popped up an inch, she knew this was not what he had expected her to say. She was pleased she could still catch him off guard sometimes, and she was pleased even further when the very fact that she had predicted what he would do seemed to irritate his contrarian nature.

Tom narrowed his eyes at her. "Why would I want to do that?"

"We enjoyed spending time together in school."

"I think you may be greatly overestimating the amount of enjoyment I got out of your company. And we are no longer schoolchildren."

"I know. So perhaps we can enjoy spending time together as adults, now."

He laughed at her. "You have no idea who I am anymore."

"I suspect you are still Tom Riddle," she said.

"Barely," he snarled, his face black and full of hate. Hatred for his name, hatred for the father he was named after, hatred for her, hatred for the world, she wasn't sure.

Luna paused, then said lightly, "That's enough for me."

"Tom!" Violetta repeated, placing her unicorn on the table between them.

Tom's dark eyes shifted from Luna and fell on Violetta, inspecting the child down his nose with the look of someone who had spotted something distasteful. The unicorn on the table trotted across the grimy wood surface with quiet little clip-clops of its hooves, and Violetta laughed, oblivious to the critical look from Tom.

"What is her name?" he asked after a moment, his eyes still on Violetta. His voice was stilted and formal.

"Violetta Lovegood," Luna answered.

"Violetta!" the child repeated at hearing her own name.

He looked to Luna, quirking an eyebrow. She suspected he was curious about the last name, though she did not indulge him by expounding further. She had hugged Violetta closer at the harsh look he had given her little girl.

"How old is she?" he asked.

"She just had her second birthday on Halloween," Luna answered with a steady gaze.

Tom gave a jerky nod, then stood up from the table. He paused, long fingers tented on the tabletop, and looked down at Luna. He considered his words before speaking, giving Luna time to notice that the black and gold ring he used to wear at school was no longer on his hand. Her stomach twisted, knowing this must mean he had turned it into another Horcrux.

He then said, "Do you remember when we worked together in Potions the first time?"

The question caught her off guard, but she nodded. "I do. Professor Slughorn asked you to work with me because I was new."

"Right. You didn't want to work with me. Why?"

"You didn't want to work with me, either."

"That is not an answer to the question I asked," he said coldly. "Do you remember what else you said? You said you weren't going to play any games with me. That I didn't fool you."

"Yes...I remember saying that."

Tom bent low over the table again to whisper dangerously to her, "You don't fool me either."

Luna refused to flinch or allow him to intimidate her, though she had to fight a shiver in order to stare with resoluteness back at him. When he straightened back up and turned to stalk away towards the door, she caught his wrist as he passed her, making him look down at her with utmost antipathy.

"Consider it," she told him. "I shall always be here for you, should you wish it."

He withdrew his wrist from her grip, and even worse than the withering look he had been giving her, a sardonic smile crept onto his mouth. "How very ironic it is for you to say something like that when you have never been any such thing."

Without another word or glance back at her, he left the pub, ignoring the pained, guilt-ridden expression on her face at his words. Luna sat in silence with Violetta on her lap for several minutes.

"You alright, there?"

Luna blinked, her eyes coming back into focus as she looked up at Lazarus, who had approached the table at which she sat. He looked at her with concern from under his bushy grey eyebrows.

"No," Luna answered with honesty. "That conversation did not go particularly well."

"Never been fond of that lad," Lazarus grunted. "Always slitherin' around and smarmin' up to people he can get things from. Just like his weasel of a boss, he is. Told him not to use my pub for his business dealings anymore after I suspected him of slipping a Befuddlement Draught into Amulius Farley's mead to make the deal go better for him. Couldn't prove it, of course, as old Amulius is a bit of an idiot as it is, but I told the lad he couldn't do his business here anymore."

A laugh escaped Luna. "I'm sure he didn't like that much."

"No, he did not, I tell you what. Gives me the willies, that one does. Normally I keep my nose out of what other people are doing in their own time, but Amulius is a friend of mine."

A tapping on the glass of the dirty front window of the pub distracted them both. Ferdinand, the ancient owl belonging to Lazarus, had returned from delivering Luna's message to Cat.

Lazarus hobbled over to the door through which Tom had gone moments before and opened it, beckoning a hand to get the owl to fly inside. Ferdinand swooped in through the open door, landed on Luna's table, and stumbled a bit. Once he had regained his footing, the owl held out his leg on which a bit of parchment was bound.

Luna took the parchment, patted the owl on the head, and unrolled the note. Her mood was much improved as she read.

 _Luna - You have got to be joking! I honestly thought  
you'd fallen off the face of the earth. I wrote you so  
many times, and all of the owls simply came back to  
me. I live in London now, over on Romilly Street, not  
far from The Leaky Cauldron. I'm at work at the  
moment, at your owl found me in the office, but I  
would love to see you when I'm off in a few hours.  
Can you meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at 5:30?  
Send an answer by owl. I can't wait to see you!  
With love, Cat_

That afternoon, Luna and Violetta waited at a table at The Leaky Cauldron, picking over a plate of fish and chips. Every time the door to the pub opened, Luna looked up with expectation, until at last, her old friend, who she thought she would never see again, walked through the door.

Cat spotted Luna, grinned, and rushed over to their table. Luna had no sooner stood then she was buried in a warm hug.

"Jiminy Cricket, Luna!" Cat exclaimed, holding Luna out to inspect her. "You have so much explaining to do!" Her eyes fell on Violetta, who sat picking apart a chunk of fish with her fingers. "Who's this?"

"This is my daughter, Violetta. Violetta, darling, this is my friend Cat."

Violetta glanced up from the fish. "Hi."

"Hullo," Cat replied, then turned back to Luna. "You _really_ have a lot of explaining to do."


	8. Chapter Eight: Machinations

.

 **Dark Matter  
** Chapter Eight: Machinations

* * *

 _And when I'm brought forth, stranded, I'm broken, I am grazed_  
 _from a choice, a second class one, you are the living proof of phase._  
 _And when your swollen heart, teased, fickle, and insane_  
 _makes the call to me, you're someone, you are the meaning of my name._  
For You - Rae Morris

* * *

Some time later, after a long, hushed conversation over their table in The Leaky Cauldron, Cat stared at Luna, dumbfounded. "Luna...you've said a lot of insane things to me in the past, but this has to be the most insane."

Luna shrugged. "I know."

"Do you - do you still have it?" Cat whispered.

Pulling the long, thin chain from under her robes and lifting it over her head, Luna then laid the Time-Turner down in front of Cat. Cat reached for it, then hesitated.

"It's okay to touch it," Luna said. "He enchanted it to only work once anyway, and among a number of other things, he is a very talented wizard."

As Cat picked up the Time-Turner and inspected it in her hands, Luna breathed a deep sigh of relief. Telling someone what had happened, all that she had been through, felt much like a teapot releasing steam. That Cat seemed to believe her...even more so.

"So," Cat said, setting the Time-Turner back down on the table, "old pretty boy Riddle was an absolute wanker all along. I knew there was something off about him. A purity-obsessed Dark wizard and murderer bent on taking over the world, eh? Sounds about right for him." She gave a glum shake of her head. "And to think we've only just gotten past Grindelwald's nonsense. I wonder if I'll ever be considered an equal witch, even though I'm a Muggle-born? Doesn't sound like it, if you're saying the future is as bigoted as now."

Luna reached out and took Cat's hand. "There will always be people who hate, but there's also always people who know better. And in my time, Tom is defeated."

"How did you...fall in love with him, knowing what he is?" Cat asked. "When you came back in time the first time, you knew. But you spent time with him anyway. You fell in love with him. How?"

"Nobody is all good or all evil. There's a part of Tom still, something inside him that's good. That wants to be good."

Cat shook her head again, disbelief apparent on her face, then looked towards Violetta, who was keeping herself entertained with drawing colorful shapes on a piece of parchment. "Are you going to tell him about her?" Cat asked.

"I'm not sure. I'm not much accustomed to indecision, but I'm undecided about this. I want to. I feel he has a right to know, don't you?"

"Personally...I mean, do you want my true opinion?" Cat said. Once Luna had nodded, Cat continued, "I don't think he has much right to anything, if you want me to be honest. Luna, he's the reason your dad died. He's going to become the Darkest wizard the world has ever seen - worse than Grindelwald. And you're telling me there's a Prophecy about his child returning him to power? That's some scary stuff, Luna, do you really want to risk her over it? You're acting as though the person he is now isn't that person, but is that really true? Wouldn't the right thing to do at this point be to - to, you know...kill him? He's going to do so much damage to the world, even beyond just you and Violetta."

Luna's eyes fell to the table. She had expected this. It was the familiar argument Harry, Hermione, and the rest had made. And none of them were wrong. "I know. I appreciate your forthrightness with me. I'm sure you think I'm being delusional, perhaps even selfish. That very well might be true. I understand what you're saying, of course. This is why I haven't told him yet."

A heavy sigh escaped Cat, a scowl settling on her face. "I understand now why you Bonded me into secrecy before telling me any of this."

Luna met her friend's gaze with an apologetic look. "I had to do it. Meddling with time is a very dangerous business. It must remain as secret as possible."

"Listen. I'll be here for you no matter what. But just be careful. And consider telling Dumbledore what you've just told me. If anyone could intervene with Tom before all of that happens, it would be him."

"Thank you. I promise to be careful. I want to try first. I feel I must at least try," Luna said.

Cat looked towards Violetta again. "She looks more like me than you, with that black hair," Cat said with a smile. She ruffled Violetta's hair, and the little girl looked up from her drawing at her. "Hey, kid. I'm your Auntie Cat now, alright?"

Luna smiled and said, "Do you mind watching her for a moment? I want some pudding. I think I'll go order some."

Violetta's face lit up. "I want pudding!"

Laughing, Cat said, "Sure, sure. Get your pudding. Definitely your daughter, Luna. And I'll watch her anytime for you."

* * *

Over the next several days, Luna and Violetta fell into a routine. Lazarus hired Luna as temporary help in the pub during the day, serving customers when it wasn't so busy and Violetta could be downstairs with her. The wages were low, but they were enough for now. She and Violetta had visited Cat at her flat twice, and Luna enjoyed the company of a friend and familiar face.

She had wandered into Borgin and Burkes every day looking for Tom, but always found instead the greasy-haired shop owner, Burke. The first few times, Burke had simply given her a brief inspection. "He's not in," he would say. "Out on business. I'll let him know were looking after him."

But her most recent foray into the shop and proven even less welcoming. "For Merlin's sake, girl, he's not here!" Burke had hissed. "Can't you see I have a business to run without tending to my blasted shop assistant's admirers?" He then escorted and bowed her from his shop in a way that felt most insincere.

The following Saturday evening, after being in the past nearly a week, Luna played with Violetta in their room. Othello lay sprawled across the foot of the bed, his rumbling purr blending in with the noise of the busy pub's customers that carried up the stairs.

Violetta and Luna were blowing bubbles together, great purple bubbles that erupted into a cascade of disappearing silver glitter when they burst. Luna would blow a bubble, and Violetta would run here and there in the room, chasing the bubbles down to poke them with her fingers, laughing the entire time.

Luna set the bubbles aside and held her arms out to her daughter. "Come here, my love."

Violetta ran into her mother's arms, still laughing. Luna wrapped her daughter in an enormous hug, planting kisses all over the child's head. Violetta squealed with joy, thinking it a wonderful game, then she spotted her stuffed unicorn across the room.

"Tom!" Violetta said, and she held out a small hand towards the unicorn. To Luna's surprise, the toy lifted off the ground and flew into her daughter's hand as though summoned.

There was a knock on the door. Luna looked up. "Yes?"

"Luna," came Lazarus' reedy voice from the hall, "you have a visitor. He's being right insistent about seeing you, though I already told him twice you was busy with your girl and likely didn't need disturbance from some young lout who don't take 'no' for an answer."

Standing up at the irritation in his voice and leaving Violetta where she sat, Luna opened the door. Lazarus stood with his hands on his hips and a sullen look on his face. "Who is it, Lazarus?"

"Me," came a voice from the end of the dark hallway. Tom Riddle had just finished coming up the stairs and was striding down the hall with a smirk. As he came into the rectangle of light coming from the open door, Luna saw he was dressed in what she recognized as Muggle formal wear, including a black dinner jacket with tails, a white tie, and white gloves held in one hand. Even as he stepped around the clutter in the hall, he managed to do so with grace and his nose in the air.

Lazarus' face was murderous. "I told you to wait downstairs. Who do you think you are coming up here into my private spaces uninvited?"

"Apologies, but I'm in a bit of a hurry," Tom said with the briefest glance of acknowledgement at Lazarus. Standing next to Lazarus, he towered over the older man, exacerbated by Lazarus' stooped back and Tom's proud posture. Turning to Luna, Tom said, "I would like you to attend an event with me tonight."

Luna raised her eyebrows, her curiosity churning inside her. "You look very dashing. Such an aristocratic outfit suits you quite well. I'm sure your event will be just as spectacular, but I have my daughter."

"All right, lad, you heard the lady. Let's get goin'," Lazarus groused, attempting to shoo Tom down the hall with his hands.

Tom didn't budge. "Surely someone can watch her for a few hours."

"Don't look at me, I have a pub to run," Lazarus said, crossing his arms.

"Mummy?" Violetta said, appearing at Luna's side in the open doorway and tugging at her hand.

Both Tom and Luna looked down at the child.

Violetta turned her face towards Tom in the hall. "Hi," she said.

Tom blinked and frowned. "Hello," he muttered back, then averted his eyes, looking anywhere else. His eyes fell on the room behind Luna. "I see you still have that miserable beast."

Luna glanced back at Othello, who gave a lazy hiss at Tom from the bed without bothering to get up. "He's been one of my most loyal and brave companions," Luna replied.

"I'm sure," Tom said. "Are you going to come to the event or not? I haven't got all evening to stand here and discuss it with you."

She considered her options. She didn't want to turn him away after he had come to her of his own accord. This was what she'd wanted, after all - to spend time with him. "Well, I suppose my friend Cat might be able to watch Violetta for me."

Lazarus grunted. "You do what you want." He shuffled off down the hall and disappeared down the stairs.

"I'm guessing it's a very formal event by your clothes, though, and I have nothing as fine as that to wear," Luna said, her eyes lingering on Tom's jawline above his stiff collar.

Tom gave a casual flick of his wand towards the staircase without saying a word. A moment later, a black silk garment bag floated up the stairs, down the hall, careful to dodge the crates, then into Tom's outstretched hand. He pressed it into her hands.

"Ask Litner. Put this on. Be ready in…," he said, pausing to pull a pocket watch out of his vest pocket, "...ten minutes." With that, he strode back down the hall in the direction Lazarus had disappeared.

* * *

Tom stood leaning against the bar downstairs. The old barman wasn't taking his eyes off him, scowling. Tom ignored him. Lazarus was not fond of him, but Tom could not have cared less if he tried. Far more irritating at the moment was the fact that he had to don the ridiculous Muggle suit, something that was drawing more than enough attention from the rowdy weekend crowd of The White Wyvern.

In fact, Tom was quite sure this assignment was Burke's way of retaliating for asking him to act as a shield in regards to Luna's daily visits to the shop looking for Tom. His employer was a selfish, petty man who did not appreciate doing favors for anyone when it did not benefit himself, and Tom was no exception in regards to Burke's lack of generosity. Burke made his resentment at being asked to turn Luna away well known.

Following her most recent visit by the shop, during which Tom had ducked behind the shelves in order to remain out of view, Burke had turned on him the moment he had escorted Luna out. "Boy!" he had barked.

Tom had stepped from behind the shelves, a careful air of nonchalance gracing his features. "Yes?"

"I don't know what's going on with you and that girl, and quite frankly, I don't give a damn, but keep your nonsense out of my shop! Unless that girl has a dozen Dark artifacts that would make me in an easy thousand Galleons, I don't want to see her in here again! This is a respectable place of business!"

"Certainly," Tom had said, swallowing the acidic response that simmered on his tongue at his employer's disrespectful way of speaking to him.

"And I have a job for you…," Burke had said, the sleazy smile on his face alerting Tom to the fact that he would not enjoy the job he was being tasked with.

And, to be sure, dressing up in Muggle finery and degrading himself by attending an event with the wealthiest and worst of the Muggles was not an enjoyable affair, though it did provide him with an opportunity to attempt to better discern Luna's motivations. He was intrigued by her sudden appearance and persistence at seeing him, so very much like her initial appearance five years ago and her insistence on being his friend at that time. Not to mention, she had known things about him then that she shouldn't have, couldn't have known, something he had chosen to overlook in his foolishness of adolescence during the time they had spent together.

No matter. He had long ago sworn to never make the same mistake again. Still, he had been disturbed by the effect seeing her again had had on him. He had thought he would never see her again, and had preferred to deceive himself into pretending she had never existed at all. He had not slept that night after he had seen her, pacing the streets of London fueled by fury at both her and himself. So, when Burke had put him on this assignment, Tom had elected to bring Luna along, so that she could see him at work, and so that he could glean more information from her. He felt the witch would bother him less, stop eating away at the back of his mind, if he could just figure out what her secrets were and what relation they had to him.

Tom picked a bit of lint off his dinner jacket, then plucked at the absurd bow tie around his neck. He cheered himself with thoughts of future revenge on Burke when he no longer desired to be employed in the man's shop.

"What do you want with Luna, eh?" the barman asked, interrupting Tom's musings.

Tom shot a dismissive glance at the old man. "Is that really your business?"

"She's a good egg, she is. Deserves better than the likes of you. Sneakin' around and upsettin' her. She's got her little one to worry out, which what is much more important than you is."

"I assure you, barman, Luna Lovegood is a competent witch who can take care of herself without your assistance, regardless of whether or not she is 'a good egg'. And I have absolutely no intention of further darkening your doorstep after tonight, so why don't you mind your own business, as was previously suggested to you," Tom said.

"Hmph," Lazarus grumbled, but his surly expression dissipated a moment later as his eyes landed on something over Tom's shoulder, melting into the closest Tom had seen to a smile on the old man's face.

Turning around to see what the old man was looking at, Tom saw Luna coming down the stairs in the gown which he had brought for her, one hand picking up the skirt a few inches so that she did not trip as she came down the steps. Tom's smug look fell away at a rate similar to that at which Lazarus' sullenness had evaporated.

Tom may have resented being tasked with this particular job, but he was nothing if not a careful worker who would do the thing properly. He had prepared for the job, and among other things, he had studied photos of Muggle women in Paris at formal events. He had ordered Luna's gown to be made in a similar style: sleeveless; a sweetheart neckline; a fitted bodice; a full skirt shaped with tulle, pinned and draped artfully in vogue with the highest of Muggle fashion. He had diverged from the Parisian women's gowns in color alone. While all the Parisian women had been in dresses of various pretty pastels, he had requested Luna's to be made in the deepest emerald silk. She had pinned the left side of her hair up with a sparkling, silver comb, the rest coming down around her shoulders in smooth waves.

Tom was halfway across the pub towards the stairs before realizing what he was doing and coming to a stop. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, but each and every pub patron's eyes were on Luna as well, the room quieter than it had been a moment before.

As Luna reached the bottom of the staircase, she turned her eyes on him with a benign smile. "I used Floo powder to take Violetta to Cat's flat, and she agreed to watch Violetta for the evening. She did wish for me to tell you that you're a slimy git, and also that she's been practicing her Stinging Hexes." Luna continued to smile at Tom as though she didn't realize she had passed along a quite insulting message, then she held out the skirt of her gown. "Did I do all right? I haven't been to a great many formal events, I'm afraid. I don't have extensive experience with dressing appropriately for such an occasion, certainly not one put on by Muggles."

"You…," Tom began, then lost the thread of what he was going to say.

"You look downright stunning, Luna," came Lazarus' voice behind him. "Like a right lady. And I'll say it, since your _gentleman_ friend here seems unable to do so properly."

The smile on Luna's face grew, inducing warm laugh lines around her eyes. "Why, thank you, Lazarus, you are most kind." She offered the aged barman a small curtsy, then returned her gaze to Tom. "This dress is very beautiful. Thank you for getting it for me. Although it does sort of strangle the air out of one's lungs a bit."

Finding his voice, though it sounded far too stiff for his liking, Tom said, "It's what the idiot Muggle women wear in Paris; it's considered fashionable for them to not be able to breathe, I suppose." Glancing at his pocket watch again, he said, "We need to get going. We can't be late, or we won't be seated." Tom strode the last few steps across the room to Luna. He offered her his arm. "We will Apparate there."

Luna nodded. "I love a good adventure," she whispered to him conspiratorially, then placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, and the two of them disappeared with a loud crack.


	9. Chapter Nine: Familiar

.

 **Dark Matter  
** Chapter Nine: Familiar

* * *

 _It might be a little while, but maybe we'll realign soon.  
_ _Made to reassign, but find me a little time, too.  
_ Terraform - Novo Amor

* * *

They appeared outside, in the shadows of a large circular building. Luna shivered in the cold November air and went to pull her hand from Tom's elbow. Tom placed a hand over hers to keep it in place. "You have to allow me to escort you on my arm. It's proper."

"Fine, then," she responded, her eyes fluttering down to focus on his hand over hers.

"This way," he said, sweeping forward. He lead her to the front entrance, over which were the words _Royal Albert Hall_ in white letters. A crowd of Muggles in extravagant clothes was still filtering in through the doors, and Tom and Luna joined them.

"What are we here for?" Luna asked with curiosity, watching the people around her in all their finery and airs.

"A performance by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. A gala event, featuring one of the most renowned international violinists, Maximiliano Mendes." He did not expound further on their true purpose in attending, and Luna seemed too dazzled by her surroundings to be too concerned with it anyway.

"Ooh, how exciting, I've never been to an orchestra performance before!" she said. "Goodness, look at that Muggle woman's hair, how clever!" she added, pointing at the woman in question, whose hair was in an elaborate braid and amassed into an enormous mound atop her head.

Tom reached out and forced Luna's hand back down with his own. "Don't point at them."

Upon entering the building, Tom strode across the foyer towards one of the entrances into the hall. Luna was staring around them, her eyes even wider than normal. "What a magnificent place," she murmured. She looked up at the sparkling chandeliers lighting the building with great interest. "They're run by electricity, aren't they? Brilliant."

Tom scowled at her praise of the Muggle technology. "A poor substitution for magic," he muttered back.

"You don't think it's extraordinary?" she asked. "Light like that, without any magic at all!"

"I forgot how easily amused you are with inane things," he said. "And keep your voice down. They're Muggles, not deaf."

Tom noted that has the pair of them walked, the heads of numerous Muggles, men and women alike, were turning in their direction to follow their progress. This persisted as they entered the performance hall, handed their paper tickets to an usher waiting there, and began descending the steps towards their seats in the usher's wake.

Luna's hand on his arm gently squeezed him as they started down the stairs. "I feel as though everyone is staring at us," she whispered. "Have I made some grievous Muggle fashion faux pas? Perhaps I was supposed to wear this gown the other way around? Or perhaps the gloves were intended -"

"That's not why they're staring at you," Tom hissed.

"Oh? Well, that's reassuring to hear, as I put a tremendous amount of effort into the ten minutes you allotted me to get ready, but you do agree they're all staring?"

"Of course they are. These are the wealthiest, most important Muggles in London, and they've no idea who we are."

"Why does it matter who we are? I don't know anyone here, either."

"Because they all know each other. This gala is only for the most exclusive group of rich Muggles. And they don't know know us. They don't know who the handsome young man and beautiful young lady at the gala are. We're gossip material."

Luna shot a sideways glance at him. "Do you think I'm beautiful?" Her tone was one of genuine curiosity rather than flirtatiousness, and as usual, her lack of ulterior motives in general annoyed him.

He rolled his eyes and did not look at her. "That's not of consequence at the moment. I was merely explaining why they were staring at us."

The usher indicated their seats to them and passed them a program for the evening's performance. Luna and Tom settled into their seats, and Luna peered around the hall, awestruck. Most of the audience was already seated, and the orchestra was already on stage warming up.

"These are quite good seats. How did you get these tickets?" Luna asked.

"I may have persuaded a Muggle couple to part with them," he replied with a smirk.

"Persuaded?" She settled that damn probing look on him, the same one that had caused him numerous problems as a school boy.

Tom leaned close to her to whisper in her ear, in part to not be overheard and in part to avoid her stare. "Don't worry, Lovegood, I didn't harm the filth. A simple Confundus Charm was sufficient to make them think they had alternative plans this evening which they simply couldn't miss. They were all too eager to pass on tonight's tickets to the charming young man they were chatting with in the café."

"Do you think you're charming?" she asked in the same tone she had asked if he thought she was beautiful, like a researcher from another planet.

"When I want to be," he replied.

"I see," she said with a thoughtful nod.

The lights in the hall fell as the lights on the stage brightened. A hush fell over the audience, and a moment later the conductor strode out onto the stage, followed by a middle-aged man holding a violin. All of the Muggles began applauding them, which Luna politely copied.

The conductor situated himself in front of his orchestra, and the violinist stood a few feet to the left of the conductor. With the rise and fall of the conductor's baton, the orchestra began to play, at first a dark sound dominated by the brass instruments. This subsided into tremulous woodwinds.

Luna scooted herself forward to the edge of her seat, her eyes wide and lips apart, enraptured. When the solo violinist began to play, the sound echoing through the hall in a chilling melody, Luna's eyes, to Tom's amazement, filled with tears, which she allowed to spill over her cheeks unimpeded. Tom found he was not watching the orchestra at all; instead, he could not stop himself from watching her reactions to the music.

He was startled when, following a few measures by the solo violinist which were then echoed by the rest of the orchestra, her small hand reached out to him, grasping his own where it rested on his knee. She was still staring with glistening eyes at the orchestra before them, even as she intertwined her fingers between his, her chest seeming to rise and fall with the swells of the music.

Tom waited, expecting irritation to rise in him at the familiarity she showed in touching him this way, but it did not come. She did not seem quite aware that she had taken his hand at all. And rather than anger, some other shameful, unnameable emotion twisted inside him. Glancing down at her hand lying over top of his, their fingers entwined, Tom did not pull away. Burying the memory of what her skin felt like against his, refusing to think of it for years except for in awful, aching, lonely moments at night when sleep eluded him...that was not true forgetting, whether he acknowledged it or not. He returned to watching her face out of the corner of his eye as she watched the orchestra.

After a few minutes, the music took a more ominous turn, and Luna's free hand touched her parted lips with her fingertips. Tom's heart rate quickened at this, though he was quite sure this was a trick of the music.

At long last, the end of the concert came, and Luna leapt to her feet to applaud the orchestra while standing, releasing Tom's hand in doing so. "Oh, Tom, that was magnificent! I've never witnessed something so beautiful before!" she said, beaming down at him. "I wish Violetta could have been here!"

Tom unfolded himself out of his chair to stand and slowly clap beside her, ignoring the pang in his abdomen at the mention of her daughter. "You enjoyed your first orchestra concert, then?"

"Yes, very much! The violinist was simply enchanting!"

A smirk played at the corners of Tom's mouth. "That's certainly one way to describe it."

Luna did not appear to have noticed his amusement. She remained standing and clapping with vigor as the rest of the audience's applause died out, until she was the last person clapping and people nearby were turning to look at her. For the second time that evening, Tom reached out and lowered her hands, forcing her to stop. When she looked at him with a questioning face, he raised an eyebrow at her.

"You don't follow social conventions well," he commented.

"I follow my own conventions."

"I'm well aware."

"What's next?" she asked, looking around them as the audience began exiting the performance hall.

"Next, those of us who have tickets to dinner go upstairs and drink for a bit while they get ready to serve us food," he replied, then started down the row of chairs toward the aisle.

"Brilliant, I'm quite hungry," Luna replied, only half paying attention to the conversation as her eyes resumed their earlier curious inspection of each of the Muggles around them.

Once they were on the aisle, he again offered his arm to her, and they proceeded with the rest of the crowd back out of the hall. Upon entering the dining room for their dinner, Luna was once again overcome with loud proclamations of Muggle cleverness regarding the decor. Tom frowned, but did not respond.

The moment they had been ushered to their seats at a circular, white-clothed table, which was already occupied by several Muggles, a waiter approached them to ask for their drink order.

"I'll have a gillywater please, with extra olives," Luna rattled off with a dreamy expression on her face as she did so. "And if you've got one of those wee spears for the olives, that would be most excellent."

"She means gin with tonic," Tom interjected, when the waiter opened his mouth to question just what a gillywater might be. "And the same for me."

The waiter gave a polished nod and bustled off to get their drinks, and Luna gave Tom an appraising look. "I meant gillywater, though." Her voice was loud enough for their tablemates to hear her.

"They haven't got gillywater, Lovegood, this is not The Three Broomsticks," Tom muttered to her under his breath, shooting a glance at the older couple sitting on Luna's other's side, who were listening to their conversation without pretense.

"Muggles haven't got gillywater?" she asked. Luna leaned closer to him as she spoke, catching on that he was trying to be discreet, though he now had a new problem in that she was so close he could smell her hair, and he was most displeased to find that this still induced the same acute slowing in his processing of thoughts as it did when they were at Hogwarts.

The memory that his Amortentia potion smelled distinctly similar to this floated unbidden into his mind as he dared an inhale, and he scowled. This was followed by the memory that he had told her this, and on the exhale, his scowl deepened further.

Luna, for her part, still was gazing in his direction with her protuberant grey eyes, without blinking, though they appeared to have gone out of focus in the few moments' pause since her question.

Tom's irritation ratcheted higher, both with her and himself. "Of course they don't, it's made with gillyweed, isn't it? That's a magical herb, isn't it?" he hissed to her, as he tried to take shallow breaths to avoid smelling her anymore.

She blinked and her eyes regained focus. "Ah. I see. I was just thinking...it's rather disappointing enough that they don't have gillywater, but I do hope they still have the wee spears for the drink garnish. Do you think they will? What a dismal party, if they haven't got the wee spears…."

"I'm sure they have the bloody spears," he said under his breath, then leaned away from her, unable to bear the close proximity any further and growing aware that the Muggle couple beside them was still attempting to listen.

"Good evening," said the woman of the couple, noticing that Tom and Luna were no longer whispering to each other. The woman offered a lipsticked smile to them, and Tom noted the numerous jewels on the woman's hands, ears, and neck.

"Good evening," her husband repeated, also smiling. He stuck a hand out toward Tom. "Edgar Green, pleased to meet you. This is my wife, Dorothy."

Tom shook the man's hand and fought the desire of his lip to curl as he did so. There was nothing he loathed more than a wealthy Muggle. "Tom Riddle," he responded, withdrawing his hand the moment it would not be perceived as rude to do so.

Before Tom could introduce her as Edgar had done Dorothy, Luna grabbed Edgar's retreating hand and gave it a hearty shake. "Luna Lovegood, simply spiffing to meet you." She dropped Edgar's hand, who held it midair for a moment as though stunned. Luna then seized Dorothy's hand where it lay on the table top glittering with rings in order to shake hers as well. Luna then sat back in her chair with a smile.

"Er - yes, agreed, spiffing to meet you too, dear," Edgar stammered, realizing his hand was still hovering in the air and hastening to lower it.

Dorothy appeared to recover faster than her husband. "Are you two married?" she asked, glancing between Tom and Luna. "What a lovely young couple," she continued, before receiving an answer. She sighed and beamed at them. "Young love."

"Oh, we're not married," Luna answered. "I'm actually rather surprised Tom invited me tonight, as I'm fairly certain he harbors a great deal of resentment toward me at a minimum, and may even despise me completely."

Tom's palm plastered itself to his face before he could stop it, which at least saved him from having to stare back at the abashed faces of Edgar and Dorothy. To his utter horror, Luna continued to speak.

"You see, it's difficult to assess exactly how Tom feels about me, as he's notoriously reticent with his true emotions. Additionally, I'm afraid he has good reason to resent me, as I've not been, historically speaking, entirely reliable or honest when it comes to our relationship."

"I see," Dorothy managed to say.

Just when Tom thought it could not get worse and peeled his hand away from his eyes to face the scene, Luna said, "You're much older than myself, Dorothy, perhaps you have some advice regarding how to approach such a situation?"

Luna stared at Dorothy with a vague smile, as though she had asked for appropriate small talk advice of someone she had met just moments before. Dorothy's face seemed to melt rapidly from aghast to offended. Edgar, for his part, seemed at a total loss for how to manage what was unfolding.

The waiter returned with a tray of the table's drinks in a blessed moment of good timing, and Tom felt he had never been so relieved by the appearance of a Muggle before in his life. The interruption allowed the four of them to discontinue further conversation without having to address what had happened. After taking their beverages, Dorothy rotated her entire body in her seat to angle herself away from Luna, speaking in a low voice to her husband.

Tom took a large gulp of his drink, then placed a hand on Luna's far knee under the table to force her to turn towards him in her seat, as she had just made to engage the Greens in conversation again. "Don't," Tom muttered.

"Beg pardon?" Luna asked, raising her eyebrows and staring down at her lap where he had reached out to touch her leg.

"For Merlin's sake, Luna, you've gone and offended her," he whispered, her first name slipping out of his mouth, indicating a degree of familiarity he had not intended to bestow upon her. He pulled his hand away from her knee as though burned.

Luna fixed her large eyes on him. "Have I? How so?"

"Well, you practically called her old, didn't you?" He took another heavy sip of his gin.

"Old? Well, she is old, that's not an insult. If anything, it's a compliment. Witches become more powerful and accomplished with age, don't they? I simply can't wait to be old, imagine all the things I shall know."

"She's not a witch," he hissed. "Muggle women don't like it when you point out their age, it's considered quite rude. Don't draw anymore attention to yourself than need be."

"Well, that's just silly, but I feel awful about offending her, I'll just apologize -"

"No!" he said, his voice rising to a near normal volume in doing so, and he laid a hand on her knee once more to keep her from turning to Dorothy. "Just leave it!"

Luna's gaze dropped to his hand on her knee once more before bouncing back up to his face. "If you say so."

They continued to talk together as dinner was served and throughout the courses of the meal. Although there was some invisible line that they both seemed to have agreed in silence not to cross regarding the topics of conversation they would engage in with one another, performing a delicate dance around any mention of their pasts, Tom was still struck by how they seemed to have fallen into their old pattern of banter without any great difficulty. As though no time had passed at all, as though nothing had happened, as though she had never left.

This feeling was, overall, exacerbated by the gin the waiter was replenishing for them both with such promptness that Tom was impressed in spite of himself.

It was only when the solo violinist was introduced after dessert had been served to the privileged dinner guests that Tom forced himself to remember he was here for business, and Luna herself was a merely part of that.

His body warm from the gin, Tom found himself sitting sideways in his chair to face Luna, with her doing the same toward him so that their knees were touching as they engaged in pointless talk back and forth that had nonetheless made him forget, if only for a short time, that he could not exist in this limbo moment with her forever.

"Maximiliano Mendes!" announced a man, and the violinist came out of a side door, carrying his violin, to the applause of the dinner guests.

Tom shifted to face forward in his seat to watch the violinist, his demeanor polishing, his heart hardening, and his edges sharpening again as he turned away from Luna. He gave a slight shake of his head, both to clear his mind of the fog that had crept in with the gin, and to get her loose from whatever hold she still had on him. He reminded himself that she had betrayed him, and he felt, quite immediately, colder and more himself than the moment before.

Maximiliano Mendes lifted his violin and began to play for the dining room, a shimmering, sad solo that seemed to hypnotize those listening, Luna most of all.

* * *

Luna was at a pleasant state of fuddled that, if possible, made her even more enraptured than ever at the violinist's playing. Once Maximiliano completed his solo, she once again stood from her seat in order to applaud him, unable to stop herself from doing so. She could not remember the last time she felt so content, without condition or complication. The music, the gin, and Tom falling into familiar patterns with her was inducing such a deep-seated warmth inside her that she could barely contain it.

The violinist lowered his violin during the applause and bowed in all directions. At one point, his dark eyes fell on Luna where she clapped. He seemed to hesitate on her for a moment, before moving on so smoothly that she wondered if she had imagined it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all so much for attending tonight's event...," the man who had introduced Maximiliano was saying, and the dinner guests began preparing to leave, the event coming to a close. Luna watched the violinist give one final wave to the crowd before starting back towards the door he had come through.

Tom stood up beside her, tossing his white cloth napkin down on the table. He gave a disdainful glance towards Dorothy and Edgar, then grabbed Luna's elbow and began steering her away from the table.

"Come," he commanded, escorting her toward the door through which Maximiliano Mendes had disappeared just moments before, against the crowd that was heading up towards the exits.

"Where are we going?" she asked, struggling to keep up with him in her gown as he weaved amongst the people leaving.

Tom was exchanging dirty looks with the the Muggles that they passed, who were staring at him, affronted at his apparent rudeness as he pushed his way through them. Luna was tempted to warn the Muggles that it wasn't worth getting into a dirty look contest with Tom Riddle.

"You didn't think I just brought you for an evening out, did you?" he said over his shoulder, bitterness rising in his tone again.

Luna's heart rate increased. She felt him slipping away. While they sat and ate together, he had seemed like he would let himself be her Tom again, that he would let her be his Luna again, but now he was withdrawing from her again, growing distant, going cold. "Well, I try to not make too many assumptions as a general practice, and particularly when it comes to your behavior, as -"

"Hurry up," he interrupted in irritation. "I have work to do, and he's known to slip away the moment he senses danger."

"Who?" she asked from behind him, still being towed along by Tom's grip on her arm.

Tom did not answer her and instead lead her to the side door, approaching it without hesitation. A waiter stepped forward with a finger raised, as though to stop them from going through, but Tom muttered something under his breath and the man's eyes glazed over. The waiter stood by slack-jawed as Tom opened the door and pulled Luna through.

Luna saw, at the end of the corridor they had entered, Maximiliano Mendes entering a room. The violinist glanced down the corridor toward them when they appeared, then slipped inside the room and shut the door behind him.

Continuing his quick pace, Tom pulled Luna down the corridor toward the room, muttering to Luna as they went, "Listen to me. I am here for a business assignment. Do not interfere." Before she could respond, they had reached the room Maximiliano had entered. Tom pulled out his wand, pointed it toward the doorknob, and said, " _Alohomora_."

The door sprang open. Maximiliano Mendes spun around inside at their entrance, and to Luna's surprise, he was pointing a wand directly at Tom. The violinist was panting, his hair beginning to fall out of the careful coif into which it had been combed for his performance. There was an open suitcase behind him. They had entered his dressing room, and he had been starting to pack in an apparent rush. His violin lay in its case, also open, just next to the suitcase.

Maximiliano's eyes darted from Tom to Luna and back. "I knew it!" he said in a thick Spanish accent, raising his free hand to point at Luna. "I knew she was a witch when I saw her at the dinner! Something funny about her!"

Luna, feeling quite confused and not assisted in the least by the gin she had been drinking at dinner, offered Maximiliano a small wave from behind Tom. "Hello there," she said. "Your performance was really quite amazing, I was absolutely astonished."

Maximiliano dared to take his eyes off Tom for another moment to give Luna a startled look. Tom took advantage of this lapse in judgement, saying, " _Expelliarmus_!" Maximiliano's wand flew through the air, and Luna, without thinking, reached out and caught it. She stared down at the wand in her hand, bemused, then glanced back up at Tom, whose wand was still pointing at Maximiliano. Tom took a step toward the violinist, who seemed to wilt before their very eyes.

"I suppose you want my violin," the middle-aged wizard said, his shoulders slumping forward, looking hopeless.

"Of course I do, Mendes," Tom said, advancing on the wizard further, a sadistic smile curling at his mouth. "You know, you really should have kept it quiet that you had it, instead of flaunting it all around the world like a fool. I suppose you quite liked the fame, however, even if it was from Muggle filth." Tom stopped just in front of Maximiliano, so that the tip of his wand was mere inches from the man's face. "Pathetic," Tom spat.

"Tom, why do you want his violin?" Luna interrupted. "Do you play?" She hovered by the door holding Maximiliano's wand, feeling quite out of place and quite unsettled by watching Tom threaten the cowering man with his wand.

The two men turned to look at her with varying shades of disbelief on their faces.

"Of course not, Lovegood," Tom snapped.

"Do you not know what this is, girl?" Maximiliano said, gesturing towards his gleaming violin and seeming to forget for a moment that his life was being threatened.

"A violin?" Luna tried.

Maximiliano let out a scoff. "'A violin'! This is no mere violin! This is Stradivari's greatest creation, the most valuable of his violins!"

"Who?" Luna asked.

The violinist seemed pained at her question. He looked to Tom. "She asks who is Stradivari. Who is Stradivari! And you bring _her_ here to take my violin from me? I know you must, but someone who does not even know Stradivari?"

Tom prodded the man in the chest with his wand to get him to be quiet, then glanced at Luna. "Antonio Stradivari was a wizard in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries who became renowned for making the best violins in the world. His violins are still extremely valuable today, although Muggles do not know he was a wizard, or that he used his magic to make his instruments. And this," he said, pointing to Maximiliano's violin, "is his most valuable ever, the only one that has never fallen into Muggle hands. Although," he added, sneering at Maximiliano, "I suppose you have still managed to taint it by using it to perform for them for your own petty benefit."

Maximiliano heaved a dramatic sigh. "What do you want from me, eh? There are much bigger Muggle audiences available out there, you know? And you mock me for it, but how you think I kept my violin for so long, eh? Muggles can't take it from me. And witches and wizards would not suspect to find it being played for Muggles. I have had it for eleven years now, the longest anyone has ever been bonded to it. I am, of course, quite curious how you yourself knew where to find it?"

"I believe you are acquainted with my employer, Mr. Caractacus Burke," Tom answered.

A flush of rage bloomed on Maximiliano's cheeks. "Burke!" he spat. "I should have known! Your employer is a rat, a weasel, a vermin, a -"

"Agreed," Tom interrupted in impatience.

"This is not the first time he has attempted to take my violin from me! He is the only wizard who knows that I have it!"

"Not anymore," Tom said with a sneer. "And you may come to find that I am far more clever than Burke. I have come more prepared." At this, Tom gave a small tilt of his head in Luna's direction, causing Maximiliano's eyes to dart towards her.

Luna rocked her weight up onto the balls of her feet, then backwards onto her heels. She had no idea what her part in all of this was, or what Tom meant by coming prepared. "Beg pardon?" she said.

"I could sabotage you," Maximiliano threatened Tom, his eyes narrowing. "I could tell her."

"Tell me what?" Luna asked, now taking a few steps forward.

Tom ignored her. "You will not, however, because if you do, I will simply use the Cruciatus Curse on you until you're begging for the release of death."

Tom's face and voice had not changed, and he made this threat with such a casual air that it took Luna a moment to realize what he had said. "Oh, Tom, no!" she said, and the next moment she found herself standing between the end of Tom's wand and Maximiliano. She had not made the conscious decision to do it, but now that she was here, she squared her jaw and stared with defiance at Tom.

Tom's brows drew together, forming a line of irritation between them, but he did not drop his wand. "Lovegood, get out of the way. I told you not to interfere."

"You can't do this just for a violin!" Luna cried. "You don't even play!"

"I don't want it so that I can play it," Tom bit out, rolling his eyes.

"Ah, I suspect not," Maximiliano said from behind Luna.

"Silence!" Tom said to Maximiliano, temper flaring, before returning his gaze to Luna. In a voice that was only moderately more controlled, Tom said, "I have already explained to you that this is a business assignment, and I am not leaving without the violin."

Luna considered for a moment. Adrenaline seemed to mingle with the gin in her brain in a funny way. She spun to face Maximiliano. "Mr. Mendes - I'm so terribly sorry, I know what it must mean to you, but I do think it would be better if you just gave us the violin! Perhaps I could convince him to give it back to you at some point, or perhaps - perhaps I can buy it back for you! But for now, I think it would be best!"

A silence rang in the dressing room after her words. Maximiliano stared at her with a look midway between being moved and being afraid. After several beats, he said, "Ah. I suppose you are right." He turned around and picked up his violin from its open case, then held it before himself with tears in his eyes. "It is inevitable that this would happen." Maximiliano glanced up at Tom, his face hardening. "I will only give it to her if you swear not to let her play it. She is far too sweet for it. And for you."

"That was always the intention, Mendes," Tom said.

Maximiliano gave Tom a curt nod, then ran a hand along the curve of the violin. He then held it out towards Luna, who lifted her hands to take it. Maximiliano took a deep breath, paused, then passed the violin on to Luna. He exhaled upon seeing the violin in Luna's hands. "All right," he said, "it is yours now."

"Brilliant," Tom said in a businesslike tone. "Lovegood, put it in its case and let's get going."

Luna did as she was told, placing the shining violin in its velvet-lined black case, and snapping the lid shut. She carried the case over to Tom, who still had his wand pointed at Maximiliano.

"You can give him his wand back now," Tom instructed.

She held the wand out to Maximiliano, who took it back, staring at the floor and looking defeated. Luna's heart ached for him, but she remained by Tom's side.

Tom held his arm out for her to take yet again. "Good night, Mr. Mendes," he said. "It was a pleasure doing business with you." Then he Disapparated himself and Luna out of the dressing room.

They appeared on one end of the Serpentine Bridge, on the border of Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park. The cold November air bit at Luna's exposed shoulders, and she shivered. The moment they Apparated onto the bridge, Tom began striding across it away from her.

Luna followed half a step behind him like a lighter shadow, carrying the violin case in one hand, the other arm wrapped around her torso against the chill. A mess of emotions was whirling inside her. The adrenaline she had experienced when jumping in between Tom and Maximilano was wearing off with each beat of her heart, and she was left with fogginess from the gin, frustration and disappointment from Tom, and sadness from Maximiliano.

Tom stopped halfway across the Serpentine Bridge and planted both of his hands on the railing, facing east towards the Serpentine itself. Luna drifted over, set the violin case down, and leaned far over the railing a few feet away from him, her abdomen hanging over it so that she was looking down into the water, her hair dangling around her face. She tried to pick out the difference between the stars and any Giant Peruvian Fireflies in the sky based on their reflections in the water.

"You were excellent," Tom said, his sudden voice startling the silence of the night.

Luna stood up straight to face him. He was staring at her with an odd look on his face, one that was difficult for her to read. She suspected he was not sure what he felt, quite like herself. "What do you mean?"

"With Mendes. Getting the violin."

"You were being awful," she replied bluntly.

"I wasn't going to use the Cruciatus Curse on him," he replied.

She inspected his face. "So you were just being a bully, then," she said in admonishment. She was almost positive he was lying to her. He would have done it, to achieve his aims, if he had needed to...wouldn't he? Would he have even paused? But...the way he was looking at her, his dark hair shining in the starlight, she could believe he was telling her the truth. If she let herself. Couldn't she? She found that she wanted to.

"What did you think I did for work?" he asked her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Do you enjoy it, bullying other people for their things? Being mean for money?"

"I don't do it for the money."

"Even worse, then," she said, though she felt as if her words held no conviction to them. He was still watching her with the same funny expression on his handsome face, and she found that she could not muster the energy within herself to be angry with him. She had spent so long grieving him, longing for him, and now here he was, right in front of her, looking at her like that.

"Did you enjoy your evening?" he asked her.

"What a curious question. I enjoyed bits of it. I enjoyed the concert, of course, and I was rather enjoying you, until you started threatening people."

"You were enjoying me?" he repeated, raising one eyebrow at her.

Luna sighed. "Yes. It was almost like...like it used to be. Like we could just be together again. I told you already that I've missed you. I'm afraid that's a bit of an understatement. It's more as if I've been missing a part of myself, like a lung or something, and tonight there was a brief period of time where I felt I almost had it back. Like I'd been walking around short of breath for years, and then...I could suddenly breathe again." She sighed and shook her head, unabashed by her own honesty.

Tom took a few slow, dangerous steps forward, until he was standing very close to her, towering over her. She could smell his familiar scent, like Amortentia. Her eyes were level with his chest. Luna's breath caught in her throat as he reached a hand up and wrapped long, cool fingers around her jaw and neck, tilting her chin upwards to make her look at him. The pulse in her neck thudded against his skin, and he let out a soft sound, somewhere between a growl and a sigh.

"I find myself...craving you," he said in a low voice. He met her eyes with a frown of disconcertion that did not drown out the predatory hunger in his gaze.

"Do you?" Luna whispered back.

His fingers tightened on her jawline enough to tug her even closer. She took a step into him that was not in the least unwilling. The memories of the nights she had spent with him flooded into her consciousness without warning, mingled with confusing thoughts of cobras that hypnotized their prey prior to devouring them.

Tom's eyes flickered down to her lips, then her throat. He bent, his face lowering to her neck, where he audibly breathed in the scent of her. Skin to skin, he breathed up her neck, as though trying to smell her very blood. His lips paused just next to her ear, and Luna realized she had long since shut her eyes. Everything had been spinning anyway, and the feeling of his hot, gin-tinged breath on her skin was too intoxicating to leave her with the faculties for processing anything else.

A breathy sigh escaped from Luna's parted lips without her express permission. In response to this, a deep and quiet chuckle boiled over out of Tom and into Luna's ear, making goosebumps erupt all over her skin that had very little to do with the cold night.

"I think you crave me too," he whispered to her, and she could hear the gloating smile in his voice. The pad of his thumb brushed across her lower lip.

Her stomach roiled like it was full of snakes. "Yes," she whispered back. It was all she could manage to say, but it seemed to be good enough.

Tom made another sound, and this time it was an unmistakable growl. The next moment his mouth was on hers, kissing her with such an exquisite, demanding neediness that she thought she might give up her very soul if only to satisfy him.


	10. Chapter Ten: Antinomy

.

 **Dark Matter  
** Chapter Ten: Antinomy

* * *

 _I got no more time to hear what you think about me,  
_ _because all your words are so cold, so callous, so clean.  
_ _In the moment, you could be honest, you could wake up, up,  
_ _but your jealousy is more blind than luck.  
_ _And you could be my enemy, and you could be my judge,  
_ _if you could start remembering all the time that you used up.  
_ My Enemy - CHVRCHES, Matt Berninger

* * *

He hadn't been able to stop himself. A cold, sneaking, calculated voice, his oldest friend, had whispered in the back of his head as he watched her, trying to warn him, trying to make him listen. Luna had surprised him with the ease with which she had both obtained the violin and placed herself in harm's way for a stranger. He had not arrived to the concert expecting to leave without cursing Mendes in one way or another. He could manipulate and charm and drip with duplicitousness, but sometimes violence was the most expedient way of accomplishing that which needed to be done. He had not seen how any way other than intimidation would secure him the violin. Luna had. Her own talents were so far removed from his own.

Tom had ignored the cold voice, letting gin and want muffle it, even as it told him that she knew he was lying about not intending to use the Cruciatus Curse, that she must know better. She always knew better. It was so easy to ignore everything else when she looked at him like that.

Ah, and then she had said she had missed him. Like she would miss a part of herself, like she would miss a lung. He understood what she meant; she was speaking words that made sense to him and that played along the tune of what he was ashamed to know he wanted to hear. He knew what it was to be without a part of himself, and he knew what it was to be without her.

That critical, icy voice inside his mind rose above a whisper when he moved closer to her, reminding him that she could not be trusted, that she was the most dangerous thing he had ever seen, Acromantulas and Basilisks be damned.

But he ignored this as well, his fingertips touching her pale skin. The pulse in her throat beat against his hand, flitting along at a hummingbird's pace, pumping her blood, much purer than his own, through her veins, and she looked just as fragile as a little bird in the moonlight. A forgotten part of himself was stirring, hot and cloudy as a summer thunderstorm, drowning out the cold voice telling him no, telling him he mustn't. Curses, but he wanted her. The need he felt for her astonished him in its sharpness, and it was only then that he accepted that he had always felt it more at the level of a dull ache, but it had always been there. He had wanted her for years.

He knew he could have her, too, but he wanted to make her say it - as punishment, he supposed, for leaving him. And when she did, the cold voice screeched at him in judgement, in admonition, in disgust, a hateful wail unheard, even as his long fingers tangled into her long hair, demanding more and more of her.

He was out of control, driven by the refuge he found in her kiss. She had always cast a certain protection, a certain forgiveness, and a certain acceptance. To be touched by her, by someone so unlike himself, had always been in some ways a redemption and a belonging offered to him that he knew he did not deserve, and the feeling hadn't waned since that last time they had touched like this so long ago.

It was only when Luna pulled away from him for air that he forced himself to pause. She blinked up at him with the dazed, heavily-lidded look unique to a woman who had been thoroughly kissed by her lover, her pale cheeks flushed, her back against the railing of the Serpentine Bridge. He took a breath and licked the taste of her off his lips. His fingers twitched at his sides, longing to reach for her the way they so often longed for his wand.

"You're quite good at that," Luna said after a moment. "Were it a scored activity, I suspect you would earn the highest marks."

A vindictive thought skittered across Tom's mind even then, a desire to tell her that practice made perfect, to imply all the other women he had kissed besides her. He held his tongue out of fear that she would recognize his bluff for what it was and know that a kiss shared when one of the participants was manipulating the other, maneuvering for some alternative goal, was not the same as the thing they had just done. Instead, he settled for a frown-tinged stare, meeting her intrusive gaze and refusing to turn away.

"I have so many things I should like to tell you," she murmured, eyes out of focus even as she looked in his direction, as though lost in thought. She then turned her head, and her eyes landed on the violin on the ground. "Is this truly the best violin in the world?" she asked, stepping towards the black case and crouching beside it. Her fingers opened the clasps, and she lifted the lid to reveal the violin they had procured, the moon reflected in its highly polished wood.

"Yes," he said, not taking his eyes off of her fingers as she inspected the violin.

Picking the violin up out of the case, Luna held it in front of her eyes and stared down the strings, the way a Muggle stared down the barrel of a gun. "What makes it so special?"

"It is enchanted. It enhances a person's natural ability, magically enthralling its audience and keeping them spell-bound for the duration of its play. Those violinists who play it become known as the best violinists in the world," he replied. An anxiety was rising in him as he watched her handle the instrument. "You should put it down."

"The best violinists in the world," she repeated, appearing not to have heard the last part of what he had said. "Like Maximiliano." And now one of her fingers had strayed toward the strings, clearly about to pluck it to see what it sounded like.

In less than a heartbeat, Tom's long legs had carried him beside her, snatching the violin from her hands. "No!" he hissed.

Luna looked bewildered. "What? What's wrong?"

"You cannot play it," he admonished, turning away from her and placing it back in its case, snapping the lid shut with finality.

"Whyever not?" she asked. "Maximiliano made you swear you wouldn't let me play it. Why?"

Tom stood up from the violin case slowly, delaying the moment he would have to turn back to face her questions. He could already feel the way she had looked at him tonight, the way she had touched him tonight receding into the distance, replaced by revulsion before he even told her. He could already see her nose wrinkling with displeasure.

That critical voice inside him seized this opportunity to wriggle its way back to his consciousness. It whispered that his foolishness this evening was simply another reminder of why he should have always kept her at a distance. How weak he was to have let himself forget yet again. He steeled himself for her inevitable disgust, refusing any hope for another outcome, and turned to face her.

"The violin is not just enchanted to those who hear it. It is cursed to those who play it," he said, his voice taking on the clipped and cold tone it took with his enemies.

"Cursed?" she repeated. "But why?"

"Yes, cursed. Why is it cursed? Why is anything cursed?" Tom asked, his lip curling. "There was another famed luthier at that time, another wizard making violins, Giuseppe Guarneri. Today, his instruments are held in as high of esteem as Stradivari's, but while they lived, Guarneri lived in Stradivari's shadow. He learned violin-making from his father, who had learned from his father, who had apprenticed under the same master luthier as Stradivari had done. And, like his father before him, he was eclipsed by Stradivari's fame. He had to work as an innkeeper, making violins only on the side, because he could not support himself as a luthier alone.

"Giuseppe married a German witch, Caterina Roda. She was a clever witch, coming from a long and well-respected pureblood line, and she was ceaselessly devoted to her husband. They actually built many of the violins for which Guarneri is most famous as a pair, spending hours in their workshop together. Some of the violins are indeed the work of Caterina alone. And it was Caterina who, watching Giuseppe struggle to make ends meet and receiving even less recognition than her husband, began to resent the aged, famous Antonio Stradivari.

"Antonio crafted this violin towards the end of his life, his masterwork," Tom said, gesturing toward the violin case beside them as he spoke. "In it, he imbued all the magic he could, along with his decades of craftsmanship experience, with the intention of bequeathing it, along with his workshop and reputation, to his son, Francesco, upon his death. The violin was to be one of his son's first sales, to set him out well.

"Antonio died. Caterina, hopeful that by doing so, she would prevent Francesco from continuing to overshadow her husband and simultaneously destroy the Stradivari family's reputation as luthiers, placed a Dark curse upon the violin. She could not undo the powerful enchantments placed on it by Antonio himself that made the violin so valuable, but she twisted them."

At this point, Luna, who had been listening to him with an enraptured expression similar to the one with which she had listened to the violin in question, allowed the smallest frown to cross her face. Tom barreled onward.

"Any musician who played the violin would become bonded to it. They would be under a magical obligation to continue to play the violin, or else suffer the consequences. Caterina thought that Francesco would play the violin before selling it. And then he would be subject to the curse without realizing its source, and he would be unable to retrieve the violin in time."

"What were the consequences?" Luna whispered. Her pale eyes were impassive, though he knew her mind was working at high speed.

Tom prided himself that he did not hesitate, that he strode forward toward her revulsion as though with impunity. "The bonded violinist who failed to play would die. A painful death. Their very blood would be cursed; their blood would betray them. Unless they played the violin every day, the curse would begin to eat away at their body until their life literally leaked out of them."

Luna's huge eyes grew even wider than usual. "Oh no!" she gasped, and he knew she had realized what they had done. "But what about Maximiliano? He was bonded to the violin, and we've taken it from him!" She made to snatch up the violin case, as though she was going to return it to the violinist.

"Let me finish the story," Tom said dispassionately, waving a lazy hand to bind the case to the Serpentine Bridge, making it so she could not pick it up, and she stumbled when she yanked on the case and it did not budge. "I assure you, you will want to hear the rest in order to loathe me properly. And besides, Mendes has given it to you knowing it would break the bond. It is too late."

Still bent over the case, Luna's eyes found his, and he was somewhat surprised to see something like fear there. Luna Lovegood had been many things in the time he had known her, but afraid of him had never been one of them.

Now spiteful and resentful, taking a deranged relish in the damage he caused with his story, he continued, "But Caterina's plan was flawed. Francesco played the violin, to be sure, but he did not make any moves to sell it, instead holding it dear as his own personal instrument, his last gift from his father. Several years past, and Giuseppe still struggled to make ends meet as a luthier, falling into despair. Caterina ached at her husband's sadness, and on top of it, the couple failed to produce children. And all the while, the Stradivari violins earned the highest of prices.

"Eventually, Caterina made a rash and desperate decision. She chose to steal the violin. She snuck into the Stradivari home using a concealment charm and left with the instrument. The violin was subsequently hidden in the Guarneri home, and of course, Francesco soon passed away. But again, Caterina's plan went awry. Unbeknownst to her, Giuseppe had discovered the Stradivari-made violin in their home. And, out of curiosity, he had played it. He began to suffer the consequences of his own wife's curse, falling frailer and frailer."

Luna gave another half-hearted tug on the violin case, and when it still did not move an inch due to his spell, she let out a huff and sat backward onto the ground, the silk of her evening gown spreading over the stones of the bridge like emerald water. From the ground, she stared up at him with huge moon-eyes that were still tinged with that new fear, though her jaw was set as though daring him to continue, daring him to make it worse.

Towering over her as he spoke, Tom took her dare. "By the time she realized what had happened, her husband was too ill, his blood too far gone. She did not know how to save him, even if he played the violin again, which she tried to make him do. But when he realized what she had done, after she had confessed, he refused to touch the instrument. Weak and dying, he scorned Caterina as one of his final acts.

"In despair, not wanting to live if her husband died, Caterina changed the curse. If someone who knew of the curse took the violin from someone who was bonded to it, they would die similarly to the bonded violinist, but much faster, whether they played it or not. Once she had done this, she picked up the violin once more, and there in their home, the violin and their blood between them, the two of them died."

A brittle silence settled between them. Luna still stared up at him from the ground, her giant eyes unblinking. She had not yet reacted, but he did not fool himself that she didn't understand the implications of what he had just said. She was far too clever to have missed it.

After several long moments of silence, during which Tom became aware of his heart thudding traitorously in his ribcage, Luna began to get to her feet. As she stood, she never took her eyes off of him, in the way that one doesn't want to lose sight of a spider they have spotted in their home, with the same apprehension and the same antipathy.

"You used me." The words were a statement of fact, one that she uttered in accusation at him as the stars winked overhead.

Tom answered with a curt nod. This was the reaction he had expected.

"You knew you couldn't take the violin yourself without dying, so you took me along to take it for you. Because I didn't know about the curse. And now you can take it without danger, because it is not bonded to me, because you haven't let me play it. You used me to help you kill someone. Maximiliano's blood is on my hands. Because of you."

"You did Mendes a favor," Tom said with a sneer, turning away from her and again placing his hands on the railing to look out over the Serpentine. "The violin has become famous and exceedingly valuable amongst wizards interested in such things. It has never remained bonded to a violinist for more than a few years before it was taken by someone else out of greed, and he was being careless, flaunting his ownership all over the world with his idiotic Muggle concerts. Burke never would have let him rest. The violin would have been taken from him regardless, and had it not been you, the experience would have been much less pleasant for him."

"A favor?" Luna breathed, barely heard above the night breeze, and Tom could feel her gray eyes boring into the back of his skull. "Because I didn't use the Cruciatus Curse on him until he begged for the release of death, you mean?"

Her words felt like a slap across the face. The cold voice in his head cackled and whispered it told him so; of course she had known what he was. Still, he did not turn around to look at her. The plan to take her along to the concert had seemed so clever, a way to get the violin and to puzzle her out, a way to kill two birds with one stone, but that was before he remembered what it was like to be near her, before he remembered what it felt like to lose her. And he was no nearer to knowing her secrets than he had been five years ago, that motivation having been set aside and forgotten at some point in the evening. It felt like the universe spitting on him all over again to have her reappear in his life just for this. Now he could feel her slipping through his fingers already, like blood seeping from an unclotted wound.

* * *

Luna stared at Tom's turned back, his shoulders hunched over the railing of the bridge, the fabric of his Muggle tuxedo bunching between his shoulder blades as he refused to look at her. For the first time, she felt afraid of the man before her, afraid of the power he had over her, and most of all, afraid of the danger it posed her child. He had abused her trust in order to facilitate his machinations, and a man would die because of it. And she...she had fallen for it within only a few hours in his company. What else would she fall for? What else could he manipulate her to do? Even when her father had died, she had been able to dissociate, to blame it at least partially on the ugliness of war, albeit one that Tom himself had started, but now there were no excuses. It was just him and her. She felt as guilty as if she had uttered Avada Kedavra herself, and renewed grief for her father washed over her unexpectedly, as she accepted new blame.

"Tom…," she started, then found she didn't know what to say to him anymore. She was angrier with herself than she was with him. He had not deceived her; she had always known who the man in front of her was. She felt as foolish and naive as everyone had thought her for years, insults she was no longer able to disregard. Her feet felt leaden. She lacked the motivation or energy to do anything at all, a sudden emptiness overtaking her. It was only a thought of Violetta that came to her like a beam of light in a dusty room that spurred her to move. Feeling the need to be with her daughter, she pulled out her wand to Apparate to Cat's flat.

Tom turned around at the sound of her rustling clothes. Just as Luna began to spin into the pressing darkness, Tom snatched up the violin case and seized her arm in one motion, and he was dragged into Apparating with her.

They appeared on the streetlamp-lit Romilly Street, popping into existence in front of a white building flanked on either side by restaurants. Tom stumbled upon arriving, then released Luna's arm to run his hand through his hair.

"What are you doing?" Luna asked, though she was already moving toward the door of the white building, where Cat lived. She needed to be with Violetta, to ground herself, to remind herself of what was real and good.

Tom looked somewhat perplexed himself, as though he hadn't entirely decided to come along. He strode after her, his long legs keeping pace with her without difficulty, the violin case swinging at his side, and by the time they had reached the door, he seemed to have recovered, his face setting into its more usual frown. "You haven't exactly been innocent in all of our relations," he said.

Luna sighed, feeling uncommonly weary. She opened the door to Cat's building and began climbing the stairs to the upper floors. "My sins between us are well-known, and they haven't resulted in the death of anyone, so I'm afraid I don't feel this is a particularly fair comparison."

"But they aren't well-known," Tom hissed from behind her as he followed her up the stairs. "You've never been forthcoming with me from the beginning, and that hasn't changed."

"And what? For this, I deserve what happened tonight, what we've done tonight?" Luna's mind was cloudy, and not in the pleasant way it had earlier from the conversation and gin and lust.

"I'm not an idiot trying to make false equivalencies, all I'm trying to point out is that you're angry with me because I manipulated you, but I would bet a thousand Galleons you've manipulated me, too."

"I'm not just angry you've manipulated me. I'm angry a man will die because of me, and I'm angry I allowed you to get me to do it."

"He's not going to die because of you, he's going to die because of the curse, because of the violin."

Luna sighed again as she reached the landing with Cat's flat. "Which I took from him."

As she reached out a hand and knocked on Cat's door, Tom's thin fingers wrapped around her forearm and pulled her around to face him. He had a strange look on his face, one of fury mingled with desperation. "You left!" he hissed.

There was a patter of tiny feet behind the door, and Violetta's muffled voice cried, "Mummy's here!" Then heavier, adult footsteps followed, then the sound of the lock being undone.

Luna paused, searching his eyes. He didn't understand. "Yes, Tom, I left. Years ago, I left." She was not feeling accommodating. But then she saw a familiar set to his jaw, coupled with a familiar nose. In that moment of childlike demand, he so looked like her daughter that a pain rose unbidden into her chest. She exhaled as though the breath had been knocked out of her.

The door opened, and a black-haired child scurried out, smiling, throwing her arms in the air toward her mother. Luna scooped her up with gratitude, at once feeling more whole, then looked back at Tom. Cat stood in the doorway and glanced back and forth between Tom and Luna, sensing the extreme tension and the lull her presence had induced in an argument. "Night went well, then?" Cat said after a moment.

Tom sent a venomous look at Cat, but did not deign to respond.

"The concert was lovely," Luna said, answering with a technical truth. "Thank you for watching Violetta. Although I would have expected you to be asleep by now, my love," she added to her daughter.

"She refused to sleep until you got back," Cat admitted with a guilty face as she led the group inside her flat to the fireplace, "and we were having a rather good time together."

"It's all right, thank you again. I should get her back and in bed." Luna planted a kiss on Cat's cheek in goodbye. "We'll see you soon."

Cat bid them goodnight and offered them Floo powder. Holding Violetta close to her, Luna stepped into the flames and traveled back to The White Wyvern. A few moments after stepping out of the fireplace and into the spare bedroom they were renting, Tom also appeared in the flames, looking angrier than ever.

"Your nasty Mudblood friend saw fit to threaten me with her ridiculous hexes again just as I stepped into the fire, as though she could possibly hope to match me in an actual duel, as if she isn't already fortunate I haven't cursed her into oblivion, as if she has any right to disrespect me," he ranted, dusting soot off his Muggle tuxedo.

"Don't call her that," Luna said firmly. She still clutched her daughter close to her, and she was trying to ignore the earlier pang she had felt when Tom had reminded her of Violetta.

"Oh, yes, of course, ever so virtuous, so loyal, so honest when it suits you, but if it doesn't -" he mocked.

"It has never suited me to be dishonest or disloyal to you," Luna interrupted at a whisper.

"You could have fooled me," he spat. " _You_ do not get to be _my_ judge. You will have to try to forgive me if I don't lose any of my already poor sleep over the fact that you feel guilty about Maximiliano Mendes and his bloody violin." He shook the violin case as he spoke for emphasis, then demanded, "Tell me the truth. Where did you go? Why did you go?"

"I suspect you didn't go looking for me," she said, well aware that she was avoiding an honest answer, and feeling increasingly guilty and disgusted with herself as his accusations echoed with truth in her head. Had she ever been able to do the right thing in her entire life?

Tom snorted, a mad smirk curling at his mouth. "Did you expect me come chasing after you?"

"No."

"You know, it frankly boggles the mind that I spent any time with you at all. What sort of companion is a foolish little girl for myself?" He seemed to be winding up, enjoying being cruel. "I can't, for the life of me, recall what is about you that I found so appealing to begin with. On the contrary, I distinctly recall you being an absolute nuisance and a recurrent liar. In case your memory does not serve you quite as well as mine, I shall remind you that I have no tolerance for being lied to, something you have made it quite plain that you intend to continue to do. I suppose we can simply mark tonight down as a moment of foolishness, of distraction for both of us, if you like. Sometimes even I must be reminded of certain things, one of which is that after you left, the world kept on turning."

Violetta started to sniffle in Luna's arms at the tone in which Tom was speaking to her mother. Luna hugged her daughter tighter, pressing her cheek to the child's hair, her grey eyes never leaving Tom's face. "What a curious thing to say," Luna said. "The world kept turning? Well, of course it did. But the necklace you gave me -"

"Ah, yes, the necklace, and I notice you don't wear it anymore." He turned away from her, with the obvious implication the conversation was over.

There was a brief pause before Luna spoke again, during which she thought of everything that had happened that she remembered and he did not, that was a part of her past but not his, not yet. "No. I don't wear it anymore."

Tom glanced over his shoulder at her as he pulled open the door to leave, a look of absolute disdain distorting his handsome features. "That's for the best."

"Tom!" Luna shouted, her dreamy voice rising above its normal caliber by several degrees. "Don't you dare!" She wasn't sure why she wasn't letting him just leave.

"Don't I _dare_ what?" he hissed, turning round again in the doorway. "Do _you_ dare to try to tell me what to do?"

A prickling sensation developed in Luna's eyes, and she realized she was about to cry. "You seem to be under the impression that my experience following our separation, as you have imagined it, was quite pleasant. As though it was what I wanted."

"Well, you were clearly off having a good time," he said scathingly, gesturing at Violetta, who was now glaring at him with tears in her eyes.

"Having a good time with Violetta? Well, yes, she is the entire universe to me. She is the reason I get up each day, particularly since -"

"I meant with another man. Her father." His words were dripping acid from each syllable, though his voice was quiet and controlled.

Luna blinked and recoiled as though he had slapped her. "Is _that_ what you think?" she asked, swallowing a strange laugh at the pettiness and absurdity, knowing it was an inappropriate time.

"You have the evidence in your arms."

"Evidence of what, exactly? That there was someone else? Is that my greatest crime? Do you truly think that equivalent of what you got me to do tonight? And if there were someone else, since you have made it quite clear that I was unimportant to you, would that be so terrible?"

"Yes!" Tom roared suddenly, cold spite melting in an instant to hot rage.

He strode towards her, his face blazing, and Violetta threw a hand out, letting out a frightened but determined wail, "No!"

"Do you not understand that there could never be anyone else for-" he shouted, before his voice cut off. He froze as though Stunned, though Luna could not tell if this was because he had realized what he had been about to say or because his nose had begun to bleed when Violetta had cried out.

Tom's fingers reached up and touched the blood that was meandering down his upper lip, the red stark against his pale skin. He stared at the blood on his fingertips for a long moment with a frown on his face, as though he had never seen such a thing before, then his eyes slowly shifted towards Violetta, who still sniffed back tears in her mother's arms.

Luna turned her body away to shield Violetta, anxiety rising in her that Tom would retaliate for the nosebleed. Instead, he inspected Violetta with an inscrutable look on his face, his eyes skittering over the child's face.

Finally, he looked to Luna, taking in her defensive posture. "You've never been afraid of me before. No matter what I'd done." His voice had changed, lost its fury, and now he sounded as though he were simply making observations.

"Having a child changes things," Luna whispered.

Tom's eyes moved back to Violetta at her mention. Another silent moment passed. Then he downcast his eyes and said in the same distant voice, "Yes, I suppose it does." And without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared from the room.


	11. Chapter Eleven: Ecchymosis

.

 **Dark Matter  
** Chapter Eleven: Ecchymosis

* * *

 _I would like to leave this city; this old town don't smell too pretty.  
_ _And I can feel the warning signs running around my mind.  
_ _And when I leave this island, I'll book myself into a soul asylum.  
_ _I can feel the warning signs running around my mind.  
_ _So here I go, I'm still scratching around in the same old hole.  
_ _My body feels young, but my mind is very old.  
_ Half the World Away - Aurora

 _So nothing's changed.  
_ _You've been lying through your teeth again, the lion's lost its mane.  
_ _You've been cornered into you can't win.  
_ _What's the point in having something if that something makes you thin?  
_ Thin - Aquilo

* * *

Tom trudged down Knockturn Alley toward Borgin and Burke's alone, the violin case swinging at his side, his footsteps echoing on the cobblestones of the cold, deserted street. At some point since he had been on the Serpentine Bridge with Luna, clouds had rolled over the moon, making the night darker than it had been before. Luna's face flashed in his mind, alternating between the look she had given him after their kiss and the one she had given him after he had told her the truth, only interrupted by the face of a black-haired little girl, afraid but stubborn, throwing up her hand at him. Only when he collided with a hag shuffling down the alleyway, her sour breath fogging in his face in the cold air, did he quicken his pace, brushing off every inch of his suit the hag had touched with unconscious neuroticism as he hurried away.

It was late. The sign in the dirty window of the door was turned to _Closed_ , but the doorknob was charmed to recognize Tom's hand. It unlocked at his touch, and he pushed the door open, making the bell overhead jingle into the depths of the shop, the sound dampened by the layer of dust on every surface. Tom shut the door behind him and stood as still as a statue for a moment just inside, allowing his thoughts to drift away again, adding one more shadowy shape in the dark amongst the clutter of the shop's wares.

"That you, boy?"

Burke's voice startled Tom out of his mind once more, and he pulled out his wand and muttered, " _Lumos_." The light from Tom's wand cast strange shadows on his employer emerging from the darkness behind the counter, somehow looking even greasier than usual in faded, blue-striped silk pajamas.

"Of course it's me," Tom answered in a haughty voice, hopeful Burke hadn't been able to see the look on his face in the dark when he'd been lost in thought, unguarded. He'd had enough of being transparent for one day. "If anyone else tried to get past the curses on the door, you would know it."

"Well, what are you doing standing in the dark for? And what took you so damn long? That bloody concert was over ages ago," Burke said, crossing the distance between he and Tom, shuffling into the wandlight. "Bloody hell, what happened to your face?" he asked as he squinted at the dried blood smeared across Tom's upper lip. Without waiting for any response, he turned his gaze with greed at Tom and said, "Did you get it?"

Tom pushed the violin case into Burke's chest, overcome with a sudden desire to be rid of the thing, then rubbed at the dried blood on his face with the back of his hand. "Naturally. Mendes is an imbecile; I can't believe he's been able to outsmart you all these years." He knew he shouldn't antagonize Burke, not so long as he still desired to be employed at the shop, but he was feeling reckless and hostile.

Burke's full attention was on the violin, however, and he ignored Tom's jab. "Yes!" the older man breathed with something like lust, followed by a cackle. "Let's have a look at it, shall we?"

Following Burke to the counter, Tom shoved his empty hand in his pocket, holding the hand with his wand aloft so they could inspect the instrument. In the wandlight, Tom could see each individual hair in the stubble on Burke's face, and he pressed his lips together to mask his own distaste for the man.

Burke laid the case on the counter and flipped it open, letting out a low whistle of appreciation as the violin reflected the wandlight back at them. "Yes, yes, you've done it! The bond is broken, and it's mine!" he whispered, licking his lips. "I've already discussed the sale of this with your pretty little lady friend, and for a pretty Galleon, too. Thought it would make a nice addition to her collection of curios, she did."

"Luna?" Tom blurted without thinking, momentarily confused.

"No, boy, Walburga Black. She's redoing the drawing room over there at Grimmauld Place to make a place to display it, and she'd like it delivered in a week or two. I suppose you can deliver it to her," Burke responded with another cackle and a leering look. "Not that it matters to me how many witches you fool around with so long as it doesn't interfere with my business, but it might do you well to keep them straight, in particular the rich, pure-blooded, socially powerful, and beautiful ones." He paused, then added, "Especially the rich ones. Bit of advice from me to you."

Tom did not trust himself to respond to his boss, who did not seem fussed with a response regardless and had already turned back to the violin on the counter. As Burke picked up the violin with loving fingers to inspect it further, Tom lit the shop's lamps with a flick of his wand, then headed towards the back of the shop to escape to his tiny flat upstairs. He couldn't wait to get out of the ridiculous Muggle suit and be left alone. His rage during the argument with Luna had faded to leave him exhausted and on edge. A throbbing pain had started up behind his eyes, deep beneath his skull, and he had a feeling spending more time in Burke's company would not improve it.

Just before he could slip out of the room and up the steps, Burke called after him, "Oi, boy! Get back here!"

Shoving his wand back in his pocket to avoid hexing his employer in a moment of irritation, Tom walked back to the counter with a sour look on his face. "Yes?" he bit out.

"You did well, getting this for me," Burke said, setting the violin back in its velvet-lined case, then wiping sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his pajamas. "I suppose you can have that time off for your holiday, as we discussed."

Tom blinked. He had somehow forgotten about asking for time to go away from work. This surprised him, as it had been all but consuming his mind before Luna had reappeared. He would have gone even if Burke had refused him the time away, but that would have been more complicated, and Burke, amongst his many other qualities, was paranoid, careful, and a competent wizard. It was easier to play along and ask for permission, something Burke had taken to hold over Tom's head based on his work performance. It appeared securing the violin had satisfied him so much as to allow the holiday without further tormenting.

"Thank you, sir," Tom said, inclining his head toward his boss.

"Albania, is that right?" Burke asked.

"Yes, sir."

"What are you going for again? Visiting relatives or something?" Then, as Tom opened his mouth to respond, Burke waved a dismissive hand and added, "Ah, nevermind, I don't give a damn."

Even with his wand in his pocket, Tom's fingers twitched, but he controlled himself, half because he felt too tired to do anything about it anyway. There would come a day when he no longer needed to be in Burke's good graces. What a wonderful day that would be. Sating himself with the thought, Tom again turned away to go upstairs, this time unimpeded by Burke.

Finally, blessedly alone in his tiny flat above the shop, Tom started peeling off the layers of his tuxedo, tossing the gloves into the corner of his room with disgust and frustration, then adding the coat with its tails, the vest, the bowtie, and the shirt to the pile. When the shirt hit the ground, the cufflinks he had failed to remove thudded on the wooden floor. It was not like him to be so untidy - the rest of his flat, though small and the building old, was spotless and well organized. But he could not wait any longer to be rid of the things he was wearing. Before he could remove the pants, he found himself sitting down on the edge of his bed, his head heavy and aching as he held it in his hands.

These headaches were new over the past few years. He could pinpoint the exact time they had started, though he did not like to admit it, because to admit it would be to acknowledge something that had now become a trend.

After he'd made the first Horcrux, his diary, made from the death of the Mudblood by his basilisk, he'd felt increasingly fatigued. He had lost weight. His insomnia had worsened. Of course, there had been a brief period during school when he had felt better, just for a time when Luna had been present -

His head throbbed more painfully. He clenched his eyes shut. The symptoms had returned to their full force after she had left, but they had been so vague. Tired. Pale. Cold fingers and feet. They could have been attributed to almost anything. He was a poor sleeper already. He was naturally pale and did not spend a great deal of time in the sun. Easy to explain away.

Just after Luna left, during the Easter holiday of his sixth year at Hogwarts, he performed the ritual to make his grandfather's ring his second Horcrux. This was fueled in part by the spitefulness he felt in the immediate aftermath of her disappearance. And so he had rent another piece of his soul off, the part that had become loose and damaged from murdering his father months before, and protectively hid it within the ring. The ring had then been placed under the carcass of the Gaunt family home for safekeeping.

This was when the headaches had started. They came and went, usually quite rare, coming on with stress and becoming exacerbated by bright lights and loud sounds. And by interacting with people. Like Burke.

He sighed and dug his fingertips into his temples. He imagined reaching inside his own skull and somehow alleviating the pressure.

No, Tom knew exactly what event the headaches correlated to. And furthermore, no healing potions had ever alleviated them when they came. Another mark of their Dark origin. The problem was that admitting it concerned him. None of the research he had done on Horcruxes had ever indicated physical symptoms as a potential side effect. He had no idea how to resolve the issue - if it was even resolvable. What if the reason he hadn't found anything about such things in his research was because no other Horcrux-maker had experienced this? What if it was him, his own fault, his own weakness...perhaps as a result of his impure blood? And what if, with each Horcrux he made, things progressively worsened? He already had torn his soul into three pieces, but he wanted seven. In what ways would his physical body be rebelling then?

He had charmed the Grey Lady before he'd left Hogwarts. She had told him where to find the diadem, the beloved possession of Rowena Ravenclaw, and that which he had so coveted for this Dark purpose. He had gone and found it following graduation, too. But when he had arrived in that forest in Albania several years ago, he had found himself uneager, finding reasons to delay the process.

Tom opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out the emerald green quill Luna had gifted him for Christmas. The silver snake she had painted lay idle. His head throbbing, sitting on his bed in his tiny flat, Tom now could at least acknowledge the reason he had placed the diadem back in the tree, protected it with spells, and left the country without harming a soul. He supposed the threat of worsening physical ailments had contributed, but more so than this, it had been Luna's voice that had chased him out of Albania the last time, murmuring words she had said on one of their last days together in his mind. She had told him it wasn't too late for him to turn around, and he had asked her how she could know. And plain as day, unafraid and unashamed, she had told him, _I know because I love you._

Even in her absence, even after her gutting betrayal, in that moment, these words had gripped him like an animal in a trap. Words he had never heard before, nor did he expect to hear them again.

He set the quill down on top of his bedside table and averted his eyes, looking instead at the dark wood grain of the floorboards. Finally, over three years later - three years of working for Burke, three years of delving ever further into the Dark Arts, three years of ignored headaches and heartaches - he had been prepared to go back and move forward with his plan. He intended to return to Albania and complete the task this time. How odd her timing to have reappeared in his life just before he did so. What an irritating twist of fate.

He touched the skin below his nose again, where his blood had been drawn from his body by the black-haired little girl's magic. Another wave of pain ratcheted up in his head, this time accompanied by nausea, making him press the heels of his hands into his eyes. He slowly reclined in his bed to lay down, resigning himself to attempting to rest until the episode was over. There were things he could not think about right now.

As he laid down, he waved a hand, and the pile of Muggle clothes in the corner burst into blue flames, burning until they were reduced to ash. There was no use in attempting to further think over the current night's events just now. The headache was progressing, and given that none of his potions had ever alleviated it, there was nothing to do but wait. And if it was his own weakness, physically manifesting from the loss of part of his soul to the Horcrux, well...that was just something he would have to smother and snuff out.

* * *

Luna lay awake in bed, long after Tom had left, long after Lazarus had checked in on her due to hearing all the shouting, and long after she had settled a fussy Violetta down to sleep. She had rarely been one to struggle to sleep, but she couldn't sleep tonight.

Foolish. Foolish. Foolish. The word ricocheted around her head. She had known better. She had decided not to come back here. She had put the Time-Turner away. Even before Violetta. She had known what he would become, with or without her. She had known better. _Foolish._

"I'm a right mess," she whispered to the dark room.

Rolling over on her side, the old mattress springs creaking in protest beneath her, she stared at Violetta's cot. She could hear the soft sounds of her daughter breathing, the breaths steady and deep in sleep. It was the most reassuring sound in the world, proof that she was lying there comfortable and safe, and still, her mind echoed on: foolish.

"Little love, I don't know what to do," she confessed to Violetta. Violetta did not so much as stir in response.

How had she allowed this to happen? Looking back over the past three years, she felt nothing but lost, could see nothing but errors in her own judgement. Allowing Tom to manipulate her with Maximiliano. Putting Violetta in danger by coming here. Trusting Doyle. Not trusting her friends enough to tell them about the Time Turner Voldemort had given her. Going with Voldemort to the Riddle House and allowing her father to come looking for her and die. Falling in love with Tom Riddle. Going back in the past at all. It hadn't made a damn bit of difference in Tom, and had only caused herself so much pain and loss.

An image writhed in her mind of Maximiliano in pain, Maximiliano gasping for breath, Maximiliano dying, and all the while with an accusatory expression that screamed at her and her foolishness.

Her guilt interwove with terror when her mind traded Maximiliano's face for her father's, then Violetta's. She gasped and put her hand over her eyes. As if that could block it out.

Her heart ached. She missed her father so much. The waves of that loss had become less frequent, more space in between them, but she still felt like she was drowning when they came. When her mother had died, she could still feel her presence, knew she was just out of sight. Now she just felt alone and riddled with self-doubt. Had she imagined her mother's presence after her death? Why couldn't she feel her parents here with her now? Didn't the universe understand that she still needed them nearly as much as Violetta needed her?

As though sensing her distress, Othello crept up the bed in the dark, stepped onto her abdomen, and settled onto her chest with a low, slow purr. He gave her face a gentle headbutt, and Luna wrapped her arms around his warm, furry body. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes against the dark. Her pulse had begun to speed up with anxiety and pain and loneliness, pumping the same admonition of foolishness through her mind with each beat of her heart. Another deep breath, in time to the steady breaths of Othello's purr. Her heart rate slowed; the echoes of "foolish" faded away. She opened her eyes again, looking in the direction of her sleeping daughter.

"I suppose, my love, that if I had not been such a fool these past three years, I wouldn't have you," Luna whispered. This earned another headbutt from Othello as a way to voice his approval.

There was no point in wallowing in self-pity. She had made mistakes, to be sure. But there was balance in everything. Violetta was proof enough of that.

Scratching behind Othello's ear, Luna asked, "What do you think, my dear friend? Where do we go from here? Where does one turn when one is hopelessly lost?"

The room became quiet except for the warm sound of Othello's purr as Luna considered. She could not justify staying here. She had known Tom would not change - it was why she had not returned to begin with. Still, she could not bring herself to have regrets about coming back here in her heart. There had been no other choice for her to make, not once she found herself trapped in the house in Ecuador with Bellatrix mere feet away. She had done what she had to do. She had kept Violetta safe.

Counting the cracks spread like spiderwebs in the old plaster ceiling of her room, illuminated by the moonlight escaping past the heavy velvet curtains, it was the things that had happened since coming back that made her feel the most ashamed. As if the very sight of Tom had been enough for her to deceive herself yet again.

Othello's claws came out of his paws in a gentle pressure against her skin as he purred on her chest, a reassuring touch in response to her heart speeding up again underneath him. The Kneazle did not open his eyes as he did this, but she understood his intention and gave another ear scratch in thanks.

It didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was moving forward, with Violetta, to keep her safe, to give her the world. So she could not stay here. It was damaging to herself, and dangerous for Violetta. But where to go? To Cat? Somewhere new? Her heart longed to somehow get back to her future, to Harry and Ginny and the rest. But that was unwise, not to mention impossible; it had not been safe there either, and it had taken Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the age, _months_ to solve the problem of sending her back last time -

Luna's fingers paused beside Othello's ear. "Dumbledore," she breathed. In a show of agreement and encouragement, Othello's purr surged louder, even as he tilted his head to bump her fingers, seeking more scratches. Relief washed over her. Of course. Dumbledore. How had it taken her this long to think of it? Dumbledore had helped her once; he knew where she came from. She could - _should_ seek him out and ask for his aid.

They could leave that morning. Whether Dumbledore sent her back to the future or not, he would know the right thing to do. Hogwarts could be where her family started over, where they found a new path, a new future. Where they could be safe. Safe, away...away from Tom.

A new wave of grief crashed over her, this time for Tom, the loss of him yet again, and for his soul. She wondered if her leaving him again would accelerate his decomposition, or if that thought was a form of self-flattery, inflating her own importance. No, he did care about her, in whatever way he could. Obsessively, resentfully. It would torment him, just as it did her, all over again.

She had injured him, too. Worse, she had withheld his own daughter from him, something she felt both justified in and distraught over.

Perhaps she owed him the decency of saying goodbye.

* * *

The next morning, Luna rose early despite such poor sleep. She swept back the heavy velvet curtains. The fog of dawn was still coiling up and down Knockturn Alley, refracting the sun's first rays and making the usually grim alley appear to glow.

Violetta and Othello stirred at the same time, both making sounds of protest at the sudden infiltration of light into their sleep.

"I know, darlings, but we have places to be today," Luna responded.

Packing was easy. They owned such few things now, having left most of their belongings in the future. Once Violetta was dressed, Luna carried the child down the hall to where she could hear Lazarus shuffling about his room getting ready for the day. She knocked on the door.

Lazarus' shuffling steps crossed to the other side of the door and opened it. "What is it?" he gruffed.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you in your own time and space, but I must ask a favor of you. Violetta and I will be leaving today. Your hospitality has been most generous, but it is time for us to go. I apologize for leaving on such short notice. I have to run an errand before we go, however. It won't take long. Do you mind keeping an eye on Violetta for me, just for a few minutes?"

The old wizard's dark eyes peered at her between bushy brows and bushy mustache. After a moment, he said, "You're leaving because of Burke's damn assistant, aren't you? What did he say to you last night when he was being such an arse? Why'd he make you want to go?"

Luna smiled. "Have you grown to enjoy having us here, Lazarus?"

Lazarus grunted, then turned around to attend to his tea kettle which had just begun whistling over conjured flames. He waved a hand at her over his shoulder as he walked away. "Keep your secrets, then. What's it to me. I'll watch the girl. We can have a cup of tea. But don't dilly-dally. I have work to do."

"Thank you, sir. And thank you again for your kindness in taking us in."

Another grunt, as he busied himself with his kettle. He paused to look up at Violetta. "Come here, girl, sit with me awhile."

Luna lowered the child to the floor. The moment Violetta's feet touched the ground, she ran to the old man's side, looking up at the kettle with fascination. Luna pulled the door shut on the scene, her smile fading as she continued down the dim hallway, dodging the crates almost as second-nature now.

Pulling on her cloak, she stepped out into the quiet alley, none of the businesses open yet. The mist on the cobblestones was dissipating, but there was still an uncharacteristic lightness to the place. She pulled her cloak tighter around her as she descended the narrow stairs from the door of the White Wyvern to the street. It was still cold.

Crossing the alleyway, she approached the foreboding dark door of Borgin and Burkes. The lightness of the morning seemed to skirt around the dark shop, which loomed over her like a hulking beast. The sign in the dingy door window was still turned to _Closed._

She was sure the door would not open with a simple unlocking spell - at best it would remain shut and silent, and at worst it would leave her with an ugly curse if she tried. Besides, she supposed that it was rude to burst into Mr. Burke's shop like that so early and unexpected.

Instead, she knocked, loud enough that the store's strange owner would hear it even from a back room. The sound seemed to land on the dissipating mist itself and echo around the empty street. She peered through the dirty window, looking for any sign of movement inside. When there was none, she knocked again, this time in one continuous stream of insistent sounds.

At long last came the sound of a man cursing deep inside the shop, then a door behind the counter banged open. Through the dingy glass, she could see Caractacus Burke emerging from his private quarters still in striped pajamas, his hair hanging lank on the sides of his head. His face, stormy as he came out of his flat, became downright murderous when he recognized her through the glass.

He crossed the floor of the shop in seconds and wrenched the door of the shop open. Seething, he spat, "What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing, pounding incessantly on my shop at this forsaken hour? Haven't I made myself perfectly clear that you aren't welcome here? Can't you read?" He jerked a thumb at the sign on the door. "The shop is closed!"

"Please, Mr. Burke, I'm not here for business, although I'm sure you are quite clever enough to know that already."

Burke paused, caught off guard by her politeness. His eyes narrowed at her, as though trying to spot a secret insincerity on her part.

Luna continued. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I'm leaving London in short order, and I hope you will allow me to enter your shop to speak with your assistant, Mr. Riddle, before I leave."

"And why should I allow that?" Burke said.

"Because it would be the kind thing to do."

"What gave you the impression I was kind?"

"Well, everyone has the capacity for kindness, just as everyone has the capacity for cruelty."

Burke blinked. "You're an odd witch."

"You are far from the first person to tell me so," Luna answered with a smile.

"He doesn't live here."

"He must. I've never seen him leave the building at the end of the day when the shop closes. His flat must be inside. Upstairs, perhaps."

Again, Burke narrowed his eyes at her. "Observant little thing, aren't you? How do you know he doesn't Apparate out?"

"Surely a wizard so clever as yourself would have placed anti-Apparition wards on the shop. You have highly valuable goods here. You wouldn't want them stolen. And unfortunately, you trade in the sorts of goods that attract precisely the type of person who might be comfortable with theft." She eyed the disturbing array of wares in the dim shop behind Burke's shoulder. "I'm sure that is just one of the many protective enchantments you have placed on your shop, Mr. Burke."

"'Clever'! Your attempts at flattery won't work," he growled, though he seemed to be regarding her with growing, begrudging respect, perhaps realizing she could not be dismissed as silly out of hand.

Luna blinked. "It isn't flattery. You are no fool. I doubt anyone would be able to assign that as one of your faults. Generosity, on the other hand, perhaps you are lacking." She intended this as a mere observation, not as incendiary.

He shook his head at her, greasy hair waving. "Get out of my sight." He started to close the door. Luna's hand shot out to stop the door from closing. Burke glared at her. "Have you a death wish in that pretty blonde head of yours?"

"I don't believe so, although we are all occasionally a mystery, even to ourselves."

"Dammit, woman," Burke swore. "Enough of the nonsense!"

"I'm happy to leave you alone if you let me upstairs to speak to Tom," she said, pushing.

"Fine! For Merlin's sake! Go!" He stood aside and thrust a finger in the direction of the black stairs behind the counter. As she passed by him, he added, "And don't even think of touching anything in my shop. If you do, you will regret it." His wicked grin followed her up the stairs.

There was only one door shut upstairs. She hovered outside it, knowing it must be the one to Tom's flat. Her fist hesitated just before it knocked on the door. Maybe coming here was more foolishness. No, it was the right thing to do. To end it.

Swallowing the moment of apprehension, she knocked on the door.

"What is it?" came Tom's sharp and impatient voice from the room.

"It's me," she answered. She then clarified, as though it were necessary, "Luna Lovegood."

There was a long silence in the room, long enough that Luna thought he might refuse to open the door. Then there were quick footsteps across the floor, just a few before his long legs carried him to the door, and then the door was opened. Tom stood in the doorway, his tall posture and imposing gaze somewhat diminished by his tousled hair and the wrinkled Muggle pants he'd slept in from the night before. Before she realized it, her eyes had skipped over his shirtless torso and noted what appeared to be a linear and barely-healed scar just above his right hip bone, which spanned several centimeters across.

"So you were the one making all the noise downstairs. What do you want?" Tom asked, voice stilted, but oddly no longer hostile.

Luna looked up into his face. The air felt thick, as though it gorged itself on the uncomfortable tension and tenuous calm between them that was following their argument the night before. "May I come in for a moment?"

"What for?"

"Please?"

Tom considered her with an impassive face, then stood aside to let her into his flat and shut the door behind her after she had stepped inside.

It felt strange to Luna to be here, and she walked around the room with a slow and careful gait. This was something she hadn't expected, though what she had expected, she wasn't quite sure. She had been in the Riddle House when he was staying there, but that had been his parents' home, and a space he occupied as Lord Voldemort and shared with Death Eaters. This was different. This was a private space all his own. Small and aged, yes, with no excess, but not an item out of place. Restrained. Controlled. Taciturn. Strange in how it revealed so much and so little about him at the same time.

She dragged her fingertips across the spines of a row of books on his bookshelf, her back to him. The titles of the books alone made her shudder, but they were in alphabetical order by the author's surname. She picked her fingers up and looked at the tips. Clean. There wasn't a spot of dust on the shelf. Luna gave a small smile in spite of herself, then turned around.

Tom was watching her, his arms crossed across his chest. He had smoothed his hair down while her back had been turned. "I thought you didn't want to talk to me anymore." There was a hint of mocking in his voice.

"That is a gross oversimplification, and I will not respond to it."

"I'm not going to ask you again why you're here."

She met his eyes and swallowed before she spoke. "I came to say goodbye. I'm leaving London for a time, and it is likely we will not see each other again. I felt I at least owed you a goodbye."

Tom gazed at her, his face still inscrutable. After a few moments, he said, "I see. And where is Violetta?"

Luna blinked. She had not expected him to ask about Violetta. "She is back with Lazarus," she responded. "Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity. You trust that old fool to watch her?"

"Yes, I do. Lazarus is quite kind."

A scoff escaped Tom. "Kindness does not correlate with competence."

"No, I suppose you are living proof of that." The words did not come out of her from a place of anger, nor did they sound as such. Just as she had to Burke a few minutes prior, she was stating a fact.

Tom knew her well enough to realize this. He shrugged in response and said nothing, uncrossing his arms and placing his hands inside the pockets of his trousers.

She averted her eyes from his, allowing them to skip around the items in the room. "I'm going to Hogwarts. I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore." Luna hadn't come here intending to share this much, but she continued pacing around his flat as she spoke, fascinated by this view into his life. The only mess seemed to be an odd pile of ash in the corner. "I wanted to say goodbye, and I also wanted to apologize."

"You know how I feel about your apologies."

"You have things you could apologize for as well, you know."

"If you came seeking an apology from me, you are going to leave sorely disappointed."

"Don't worry. I have come to expect very little from you."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Ah, just here to antagonize me then. Lucky me."

Luna paused a few steps from his bed in her circling of the flat. "No, not at all. I wish things could have been different. But I think that some things simply can't be changed. I need to…." Her voice trailed off. Something emerald green lying on his bedside table had caught her eye. The quill she had given him for Christmas when they were at Hogwarts together. She reached out and brushed her fingertips across the quill. "You still have this?" she asked in a soft voice, sounding more dazed than usual.

For the first time, a frown appeared on Tom's face. He removed his hands from his pockets and strode across the flat to the wardrobe, pulling out a set of black robes. Pulling them on with his back turned to her, lean muscles moving under his skin as he did so, he said, "I'm leaving London for a time as well."

"Oh?" she said, her eyes leaving the quill behind to focus on him. "Where are you going?"

"Albania," he answered, turning back around to face her, brushing an invisible speck of dirt from the shoulder of his robes. "I have unfinished business there."

She wasn't sure why he was telling her this, except that he found it preferable to discussing the green quill on the table. But it sent her mind racing. "Albania?" she repeated. "Unfinished business? You've been there before?"

"Once. Unfortunately, I left my task there incomplete. It is now necessary for me to go back a second time."

Luna's mind raced ever faster. Was that right? What had Harry told her? That just after graduating Hogwarts, Tom had gone to Albania and made his third Horcrux. Not by murdering someone about to discover his secrets, like Myrtle. Not by murdering the person his hated most, his father. But by murdering a peasant. Just a person who meant nothing to him, who had happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and had been caught in Tom's indiscriminate path. What did he mean by "unfinished business"? Had he not made the Horcrux afterall? What else could he mean?

If he hadn't made the Horcrux yet, then something had changed from the way it was before.

Her eyes darted to the green quill resting on the table. Her heart started to thud in her ears.

Perhaps she had made a difference after all. Not a big one - he must have gone back to Albania to make the Horcrux now, just a few years later, and he still became Voldemort, but she had also left him. She had only been there for a few months, and then she had left him, and still there was this evidence of her presence, small as it might be, evidence that he had made even one decision differently.

Another understanding formed in her head, and out loud, she said, "Oh!" He raised his dark eyebrows at her, but she remained lost in thought.

This was why she was sent to this time, why this was where the Time Turner had taken her. She had changed the timeline, pushed back the creation of his third Horcrux. The Voldemort who had given her the Time Turner was borne of the new timeline, not of the one she had discussed with Harry before ever having gone back in time in the first place. And Voldemort had known that this, as the year 1948 died, was when his past self had returned to Albania to make the third Horcrux. To commit his first indiscriminate murder.

There must have been something about taking that irreversible step to killing without discretion, without thought, without consideration, as though it meant nothing to take the life of another, that marked a point of no return in the man standing before her, that marked and perverted his soul in a way even more unspeakable than the murders he had already committed. Who would know better, after all, than the monster he would become?

His soul _must_ still be salvageable.

Words were escaping her mouth before she even realized she was saying them, her intuition guiding her. "May Violetta and I come with you?"

Tom's face betrayed none of his thoughts to her, as impenetrable as the depths of Gringotts. The thick air still hung between them, the seconds stretching out across it and becoming distended and distorted. Then he said, "Yes."


	12. Chapter Twelve: Presence

.

 **Dark Matter  
** Chapter Twelve: Presence

* * *

 _All that of that hurt and all of that pain,  
_ _it's growing inside of my mind,  
_ _and all that I've done runs in my veins.  
_ _It's growing inside of me.  
_ After Dark - Oliver Daldry

* * *

"You're being irrational," Tom said.

It was a low blow, and Tom knew it. Walburga Black prided herself on being rational to the point of wickedness. He didn't care. He could be a thousand times wickeder.

"I'm being _irrational_?" she said, her voice half an octave higher than usual, her eyes narrowed into a glare. "You're gallivanting halfway around the world with your lunatic ex-lover, and _I'm_ being irrational?"

"Your jealousy doesn't make her a lunatic."

"Don't play dumb with me, Tom Riddle, it doesn't look good on you. I can admit when I'm jealous, but there's something wrong with her."

Tom felt a prickle of irritation. He folded his arms and leaned against the back of the couch in the drawing room of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. The couch was upholstered in emerald green velvet, but it was currently covered in a white sheet to protect it as Walburga tore the drawing room apart to redecorate in anticipation of receiving the Stradivari violin. "There's nothing _wrong_ with her." He paused. "Well, there may be something a bit off with her, but she isn't mad. And don't nag me."

"I'll do whatever I bloody well please," she hissed. "'A bit off.' Honestly." She looked uncharacteristically disheveled, her black hair piled in a messy knot. There were smudges of the dark paint with which she was refinishing the enormous curio cabinet on her face.

"As will I." He met her glare dead on and was pleased when she dropped her eyes first. "Why don't you just use magic?" he asked, nodding toward the curio cabinet.

"Don't you ever just enjoy doing things by hand?"

"Not particularly."

Walburga stepped closer to him, her dark eyelashes fluttering. She grabbed one of his hands with her own, then placed it on waist. She threaded her arms around his neck. "You never enjoy using your hands for things?" she asked. "Just reaching out and...touching?" The flirtatious lilt had returned to her voice.

Tom stared at her full lips and the gentle curve of her jaw, tried to focus on the way her breasts and hips were pressing against him, for once willing himself to feel something other than annoyance. Nothing came. He remembered the hunger he had felt when it had been Luna's body against his, her face hovering in front of his own, and his frustration only grew. Why was Luna the only witch who made him feel so imprudent? His frown deepened.

A disgusted huff escaped Walburga's mouth, and she shoved herself away from him. "Fine," she spat. "Go with her, and take her brat with you. Anything to keep you from looking at me like a particularly misshapen grindylow."

He found himself sighing. His ties to the Black family went beyond Walburga at this point, and he suspected their game had played itself out. He was tired of it, anyway. But it would be easier if he didn't leave her loathing him. "Walburga - "

"No! Don't 'Walburga' me! I have been monstrously patient with you. I have waited and waited and _waited_ the last few years, and still, you can barely touch me. And now Luna Lovegood waltzes back into your world, and all of a sudden you're going on holiday together? I'm no fool, Tom. Don't take me for one."

"I've never taken you for a fool, darling." A lie, but it came easily. "I'm very fond of you, and it concerns me that you don't see it that way." More lies, slipping from his mouth like snakes through grass.

Walburga paused, considering him. Then she shook her head and bent to scoop up the paint can and brush she'd been using before he called on her. "No. We've done this too many times. I ask you where things are going, if we are even together at all, and you dodge around any commitment and sweet talk me into being fine with what I'm getting. But this is too much this time. And I've realized that what I'm getting is really nothing at all."

"That's not true," he said in a placating voice.

"It is so," she responded, her eyes downcast as she stirred the paint with the brush, the wooden handle scraping softly along the metal of the can. "The worst part is that you knew I wanted a family. Children. And you let me waste my time on you."

Tom stared at her for a moment. It was unusual for Walburga to express any emotion other than smug confidence or fury.

She gave herself a small shake and looked back up at him. "No matter. A Black is never without her options." A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Now, I really must get back to my work. When you're back from your honeymoon, I expect my violin to be delivered on time, as discussed." With that, she turned her back on him and returned to her painting, ending the conversation.

Turning on his heel and shoving his irritation down, Tom stalked out of the drawing room, down the hall, and out of Number Twelve. Once outside and free of the home's prodigious protection spells, he Apparated back to Knockturn Alley, appearing in front of Borgin and Burkes.

His sudden appearance did not startle any of the odd shoppers clogging the cobblestone street. The people just parted around him as they moved past, like a stream around a stone. Mondays were always a busy day on the Alley.

He weaved around a man in an enormous purple hat to step inside Borgin and Burkes, the bell tinkling over the door. There were a handful of shoppers inside browsing, and Burke was at the counter showing an older witch, who was tall, thin, and pale to the point of appearing ill, the opal necklace Tom had procured from Rancorn.

Burke paused when he saw Tom come in. "Oi, boy! Come here for a second."

Tom pretended not to hear, although the noise in the shop was not loud enough to justify his sudden deafness. He strode across the shop, giving the counter as wide a berth as possible, and continued on his way up the stairs.

"I let your friend into your flat, you ungrateful slug," Burke snarled after Tom's retreating back.

A jolt of rage went through Tom. With a twitch of his fingers, he sent a taxidermied manticore, which had been strung up from the ceiling for display, careening down upon Burke's head with the snapping of the wires that held it in place. The pale witch stepped out of the way at the last moment before the beast crashed down onto Burke, a plume of dust billowing out around him, and Tom's newfound difficulty hearing persisted all the way up the creaking staircase.

Opening the dark door of his flat, he found Luna inside, Violetta in her arms. They were both wearing the cloaks he had first seen them in, though Violetta's was bunching around her body as she fussed and struggled to get out of her mother's grasp. He snapped the door shut behind him, blocking out the curses of his employer which were carrying upstairs. He anticipated that he would be suspected for having caused the incident, but Burke wouldn't be able to prove it, and Tom was far too useful to fire over a disrespect that could not be proven. He would need to tread carefully around Burke for the next few weeks, though.

"Good heavens, what was that crashing sound downstairs?" Luna asked, fighting to restrain her daughter.

"Accident. Burke really ought to perform better maintenance on the shop." Tom watched the toddler fighting her mother, looking something like a captured wildcat, her black hair starting to pull free of the bunches her mother had tied it in. "You can let her down. There's nothing in here that can harm her."

"Nothing is cursed?"

"Not that she can reach from the floor."

Luna eyed him, and Tom felt a moment of indignation. Did she not believe him? He shoved that away, too. She had good reason not to believe him about such a thing, and why should she gamble with her child's life? At least she cared about her child, wanted her to be safe. _Unlike your mother_ , whispered the cold voice in his head. He sighed.

After a moment, she seemed to decide he was being truthful, and she set the child on the ground. Immediately, Violetta started to scurry around the room, inspecting the things she found interesting. She pulled one of the books off his shelves and it fell to the floor, landing on its spine and falling open. Tom winced and forced himself not to go pick up the book and put it back in its place. The book had fallen open to a page that included gruesome artistic depictions of the results of various poisons, and Violetta started inspecting these pictures with a closeness and fascination that seemed to belie her age.

He returned his gaze to Luna, who was watching the child with her slight frown, but did not move to take the book away from her.

"She's too young to understand what she's looking at," Tom said.

"Perhaps," Luna replied.

Tom looked at the travel sack resting by Luna's feet and clenched his jaw. It had been a rash decision to say yes to her coming with him to Albania, and he wasn't quite sure why he had made it. He didn't need to complicate the process any further, not after failing last time. _You'll do anything she asks when she looks at you with those big, grey eyes, you pathetic filth,_ crooned the familiar critical voice. "You're ready to go, then?" he asked aloud.

Luna nodded, still watching Violetta.

"Excellent. We'll be using Floo Powder to get there." He started across the room to grab his own bag.

"How did your conversation with Walburga Black go?"

Tom paused, then turned back to face Luna. She still watched Violetta. "I assume Burke mentioned that to you?"

She nodded again.

"Jealous?" he asked.

At last, she raised her eyes from her child to meet his gaze. "No. What right would I have to be? I wasn't here."

"Emotions are irrational."

Luna shrugged. "I don't agree with that completely. Emotions can make us behave irrationally, but they also give meaning to our lives. Besides, I would be happy for you. If you found someone to care about, I mean. After I left."

A cold laugh escaped him, but he found himself unsure what to say. Admitting Walburga meant nothing to him was the truth. Letting Luna believe she did satisfied his pettiness. He snatched up his satchel instead. "Let's go."

Luna picked up the book Violetta was looking at it, closed it, and placed it back in its original position on the shelf with a gentleness and care that Tom appreciated. She then scooped up her squirming daughter once again, balancing the child on one hip, followed by her travel bag over the opposite shoulder.

"Here," he said before he could think better of it. "Let me carry your bag for you. Give it here." Her blink in surprise flared his irritation again, but he took the bag from her when she slid it from her shoulder.

The three of them approached the fireplace along the wall of his flat. It was immaculate, though he lit regular fires in it in an attempt to keep his frequent chills at bay. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and lit a new fire in the grate.

"Oooh," Violetta said, the fire dancing in her eyes.

"Might want to watch that one," Tom said, quirking an eyebrow, half-smirking, and unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. "She seems to be rather preoccupied with the dangerous and violent."

Luna grabbed his pot of Floo Powder from where it sat on the mantle. "Yes, well, she's her father's daughter in many ways." She scooped a handful of powder out and tossed it into the flames, then looked back to him. "Where to?"

Tom froze. It was the first time Luna had brought up Violetta's parentage of her own volition. A thought had wriggled its way into the back of his mind over the past two days despite its inherent impossibility, and he held his breath waiting for her to say more. An urge tugged at him out of nowhere to tell her what he was going to Albania for, what he had done to himself the past few years, as though divulging his secrets would somehow get her to divulge her own, as if just in the telling there would be something different and better afterward. After a moment during which Luna offered no further information, and neither did he, he said, "The Witch's Hat. Tirana, Albania. It's an inn." It took a surprising amount of willpower to keep his own shoulders from sagging. _Foolish, worthless idiot. How dare you call anyone else irrational?_ whispered the voice in his head.

"The Witch's Hat, Tirana, Albania," Luna repeated in a clear voice to the fire. She kissed the top of Violetta's head, then disappeared in a whorl of flames.

They arrived in the inn, a little white building with wooden doors, archways, and window frames, to find it with numerous vacancies. The inn was tucked away on a side road off the city's main square. The spot catered to local and visiting witches and wizards, but November was off-season for travelers, and the main room when they stepped through the fireplace was empty save for the elderly witch who ran the place.

"We'll stay here tonight," Tom said to Luna. "Then we'll head east tomorrow."

"What's east?" she asked, and when she looked at him, she seemed to see right through him.

A prickling sensation raised the hairs on the back of his neck. It unnerved him that she almost seemed able to read his mind at times. He shook his head, more to clear it than at her question. "Just a forest. I've left something there for safekeeping. I have need of it now."

"Odd place to leave your belongings." Luna continued to stare at him, eyes huge, face impassive, until he turned away and approached the elderly witch to let a room.

Once Tom had secured their lodging for the evening, the three of them trudged up the stairs to the rooms. He carried the luggage up the stairs for them, and he maintained a steady breath through sheer force of will alone. Unease at his own frailty bubbled under his skin. He pulled the key for their room out of his pocket, slid it into the lock, and then pushed the door to their room open.

Luna peered at the tiny room over his shoulder, Violetta still in her arms. "Just one bed?" she asked.

A flush rose in Tom's face. He continued into the room, avoiding her eyes and mumbling, "Couldn't afford - the rooms with extra beds cost more, because they're bigger. I don't...I don't make much money at the shop."

Setting Violetta down on the ground so the child could run free in the room, Luna stepped inside and shut the door. "It's perfectly all right. I don't mind at all. I just thought you might."

He set their bags down and made himself busy with hanging up his cloak. He struggled with deciding which was more shameful, admitting he was poor or admitting he didn't mind sleeping beside her. _Pathetic_ , the voice murmured in his head. _Haven't you learned anything? Are you so stupid and base that you would still excite at the idea of her nearness?_ "Well, it's not as if I _want_ to share your bed," he said under his breath.

She blinked her eyes away from him at that, asking Violetta silly questions to encourage the little girl to talk.

* * *

As the day wore on, the sun hanging low in the window of their room after they had eaten a quick and somewhat awkward dinner in the inn's main room below, Violetta began yawning.

"Tired, my love? You've had a long day. So many new things to see," Luna said. "Shall we get you ready for bed?"

"Not tired," Violetta protested through a yawn. She had found an old Gobstone under the bed and had been playing with it for the past little while, rolling it across the floor, chasing it, then rolling it back. Luna had been watching her as she did so to make sure she didn't try to swallow it. Her daughter was rather bright for a two year old, but she was still just two.

"Of course not, Mummy can be so silly sometimes." Luna picked the child up from the floor. "Nevertheless, the sun is going to bed, and so should you."

"Sun?"

"Yes, my love, the sun. You know what the sun is."

Resting her chubby cheek against Luna's shoulder, Violetta pointed toward the window, where the last rays of red light were peeking over the horizon. "Sun."

"Very good, darling. And do you know what a sun is?" As she talked, she set the child down on the bed and started pulling off her day clothes to dress her in pajamas. Luna paused to pull her wand from behind her left ear, muttered a spell, and transfigured the bedside table into a smaller bed for Violetta, just as Lazarus had done at the White Wyvern.

"No," Violetta answered, her voice beginning to sound sleepy.

"It's a star, just like all the other stars in the sky. But the sun is our star."

"Star," Violetta repeated, her childish voice nearly skipping over the "r" entirely.

"Exactly. You are so smart, and I love you so much."

Tom had been sitting in the uncomfortable armchair in the corner reading a book he had brought from home, although Luna had noticed he hadn't turned a page in quite a while. Now he stood abruptly, dropping the book into the chair behind him. "I'll be right back," he said in a stiff voice, then left the room without another word.

His sudden movement surprised Luna, and she stared at the door he had closed behind him for several long seconds. Another yawn from Violetta helped her regain her focus. She finished changing Violetta into her pajamas, tucked her into the crib, then sang a quiet song to her until she dozed off, black eyelashes drooping, then staying shut.

Luna crossed the room and picked up the book Tom had been reading. She ran her fingers along the spine, reading the title. _In Tiefster Seele, Leere._ She didn't speak the language, but a brief flip through the pages had her grimacing. She paused on one drawing. It showed a man in agony, arching his back in such a way that he seemed only moments away from his spine snapping, his eyes unseeing. She snapped the book shut and dropped it back on the chair.

Although Tom had said he would be right back, he was not. The sun gave over to the moon and stars. Luna sketched in a small sketchpad she had brought with her, drawing Violetta, then violets, then Violetta in a field of violets standing beneath the starry sky. The light provided by the lamp in the room was dim, but creativity had always eased Luna's mind. She thought of the mural she had once painted on her bedroom ceiling, of Ginny, Harry, Neville, Hermione, and Ron smiling down at her. An ache at her lost life thrummed through her. She put her pencil down with a sigh and scrubbed a hand over her face.

She wasn't sure what she had expected, and she knew she had to be patient. Tom was being more cordial than she had ever seen him, though just as restrained as ever. She'd had a sinking suspicion at dinner that he was regretting letting her tag along. That didn't make sense, though. If he hadn't wanted her along, he would have said so. Tom Riddle had no qualms about getting what he wanted. She sighed again. She just had to be patient. Patient and present.

She stood, then changed into her own pajamas. After turning the lamp off, she crawled into the narrow bed on its metal frame. She wasn't sure how long she laid there awake, but her eyes had adjusted to the darkness long before Tom returned at last. She watched him stumble in through the door, cursing under his breath and shutting the door behind him. He peeled his shirt off, attempted to drape it over the back of the arm chair, and swore again when it slipped onto the floor. He left it lying there and snuck into the bed beside her.

He rolled over onto his side to face her in the bed. The bed was so narrow that their noses were almost touching. "You're awake," he said quietly. He didn't seem surprised. His breath smelled like some kind of sweet liquor.

Luna nodded. "You've been drinking."

It was Tom's turn to nod.

"Do you drink a lot these days?" she whispered.

"Not usually."

"You drank the other night as well. After the concert."

"They make this drink called _rakia_ here. That innkeeper sells it. It's quite good, made from fruit. It's a disgusting habit. I don't usually partake."

"Just when I'm around?"

A half-smile appeared on his mouth, and even with her darkness-adjusted eyes, she couldn't see any bitterness in it. "Driving me to the drink."

She smiled back at him, but it faded almost as soon as it came. "Did I do something to upset you?"

"No," he said, his own smile slipping away. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, the moonlight streaming in their window playing on the planes of his face.

The feeling of him receding from her was palpable and painful, but Luna just waited and watched him.

At long last, he spoke again. "You're a good mother."

This was quite possibly the last thing Luna had expected him to say. "How do you figure?"

"You encourage her. You're so warm to her. You keep her safe, but you also teach her, and let her grow, and let her explore."

Her throat felt tighter. "Thank you," she whispered. She couldn't think of a single greater or even equivalent compliment, except for perhaps being a good friend. But she didn't think he would give her that one.

"I've told you before that I showed magic early. As a baby." He was still talking at the ceiling.

"Yes, I remember."

"Mrs. Cole - a matron at the orphanage - she would tell me that I was strange from the beginning. That I rarely cried like a 'normal child,' but when I did, odd things would happen."

"What sort of odd things?"

"Nothing too specific. A window would shatter. The person holding me would get a nosebleed. I was hungry or scared or wanted my mother. An infant can't articulate what he's feeling. It just comes out of him as a cry. It just came out of me, too. In any case, the matrons at the orphanage didn't like me from the beginning."

"They thought you were touched by the devil," she whispered, recalling their past conversations. She blessed the darkness, the quiet, even the liquor, that seemed to make him feel that he could talk to her.

He gave a jerky nod, eyes still on the dark ceiling, his brows furrowed. "Right. That I'd killed my mother. It got worse the older I got. The other children sensed it; they heard what the matrons whispered about me. And children are not kind. When I was four, I accidentally hurt an older boy without touching him. His name was Franklin. He had taken my children's book away from me, ripped it to shreds in front of me. He was envious because I had taught myself to read and he was illiterate. A second later, he had large cuts to his face, blood pouring down his cheeks, and he was screaming in pain. I hadn't intended to do it, but I was angry. And I didn't know _how_ I'd done it, but it didn't matter how many times I told them that.

"It was around then that they simply started beating me. They thought they could 'beat the devil out' of me. When that just made it worse, they started keeping me in a room by myself as much as possible. When anything went wrong around the orphanage, whether it was my fault or not, I was blamed. I started to try to learn more about what I could do, tried to control it. I thought that if I could just control it, maybe things would be different. I had many hours alone in my room with which to practice. Before I ever got my Hogwarts letter, I'd realized a number of different things that I could do and the other children couldn't."

A bitter laugh escaped him. "Not that it helped me much at the time. Nothing worked out quite the way I had thought it would. I had a pet snake when I was seven. I'd found him on a trip we took to the coast on holiday, slithering along a cliff. Just a little grass snake. Growing up in the city, it was the first snake I'd ever come across, you see. And I say I found him, but really, he found me. Came right up to me, as if he could sense the blood within me. I realized I could speak with him, and he would do what I wanted him to do. It wasn't long before two of the other children found me off by myself talking to a snake on a cliff. They wanted to tell Mrs. Cole that the devil child could speak to serpents." He paused a moment, then continued, "In retrospect, I don't think they were being malicious. They were just afraid. But so was I."

Luna dared to reach her hand across the space between them then to intertwine their fingers. His felt like ice against hers, and she wrapped them in her own to warm them.

Tom's fingers curled gently in her grasp, but otherwise he did not react. "So, I levitated them off the side of the cliff and down into a cave there. I followed myself, using magic to do it, as the cliff face was not easily passable otherwise - quite a feat for an untrained child, but my powers were always at their most potent when I was under duress, when I needed them most. I took the snake with me. I told him in Parseltongue to terrorize the two children. They were already frightened, as you can imagine, having gone over the edge of a cliff and being suspended over the rocks and sea. Once the snake had crawled all over them, hissing along their cheeks and necks, they were petrified. They didn't know he wasn't poisonous, for instance. I kept it up until they swore they wouldn't tell.

"I took my snake back to London with me, a secret from Mrs. Cole. He went everywhere with me. He was my only friend. One day while out in the garden, I had the snake with me." Tom held up his free hand in front of himself and rotated the hand slowly in the air as though an invisible snake was slithering between his long fingers. "And Billy Stubbs came up behind me. Said snakes weren't proper pets, said he'd heard me whispering to it, said I was a freak. Knocked my snake out of my hand, and then before I realized what had happened, he'd crushed the snake's skull with the heel of his shoe." His hand in the air clenched into a fist.

"Well, a screaming match followed, but I was a troublemaker and no one believed me. In my seven year old grief and rage, I killed Billy's rabbit as retribution. It simply dropped dead, the life gone out of it, its heart stopped by the intensity of my hatred. I couldn't explain what I had done, and I can barely do so now. It shouldn't have been possible to do. But I did it. I used magic to hang it from the rafters where he had to see it, just as I had to see the remnants of my snake after what he had done." Tom paused in his story, turning his head to the side, eyes coming back into focus as they found Luna's again. "But what good was that? It didn't bring my snake back from the dead, anymore than crying for my mother as a baby brought her back."

He turned his face back to the ceiling again. "So, I started doing what they did to me back to them. But I was so much better at it than they were. I could do things they could only dream of doing. I was crueler, and far cleverer. And it _made me feel better._ " He shook his head, a twisted grin curling the corners of his mouth like burning parchment. "I got so good at it, they never could trace it back to me. They blamed me regardless, of course, but by then it didn't matter. The matrons were as afraid of me as the children at that point and could do nothing to stop it. And after being denied and rebuffed for so long, to finally have power...it was intoxicating." He let out a breathy sigh that made Luna feel hot and cold at the same time.

"By the time Albus Dumbledore came to the orphanage to give me my Hogwarts letter, the matrons couldn't wait to be rid of me. They wanted me evaluated by a Muggle Healer called a psychiatrist. They thought my mind was ill, that I was mad. When Dumbledore showed up and said he would take me away for the majority of the year, they could have wept with happiness. I still had to return to that filthy, rotten hole every summer, though. I was disappointed when word came that the damned place has survived the bombing of the Blitz. From the Muggle war, I mean. I was safe at Hogwarts that winter - the school kept all the students who lived in London for Christmas holiday during the war - but I hoped every day that Dumbledore would come and tell me it was gone forever. That I would never have to go back."

"I can see why you never felt at home there," Luna whispered.

"No home. No family." He shook his head again, then his eyes drooped shut. "Just me. Me and my power."

"You talk about it like it's something separate from you."

Tom yawned. "Sometimes it feels like I can hardly control it. Like it's going to tear me apart."

"Your power?" she asked.

But Tom had started to doze off. His breathing slowed, his fingers going limp in her hand. Luna watched him for some time, listening to his rhythmic breaths, mulling over what he had told her. "You're a surprisingly articulate drunk, Thomas," she murmured into the dark. She knew he was sound asleep by the fact that he did not register a complaint against her for calling him that name.

The stars had shifted in the frame of the window before she made to pull her hand away and roll over. No sooner had she rolled onto her other side to face away from him than he had rolled with her in his sleep, an arm slinging over her body and pulling her back against his chest. Luna melted against him. If she couldn't figure everything out right now, she could at least have this. She could still smell sweet liquor on his breath as he buried his nose in her hair, heaved a heavy, sleepy sigh, and settled back down to sleep in peace.


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Intertwine

.

 **Dark Matter  
** Chapter Thirteen: Intertwine

* * *

 _Fold out your hands, give me a sign  
_ _Hold down your lies  
_ _Lay down next to me  
_ _Don't listen when I scream  
_ _Bury your doubts and fall asleep  
_ _Find out I was just a bad dream  
_ Goodbye - Apparat

* * *

Luna woke with a start not long after she had fallen asleep, the acute nighttime senses she had gained along with motherhood tingling. She had heard what sounded like a cry, and when her eyes popped open in the dimness of the room, she noted that the furniture in the room was shaking, including the small bed in which Violetta was laying. Mostly vibrations, but occasionally one of the pieces of furniture would give a larger jerk or shudder, like something was alive inside it and trying to get out. Luna was facing the window, and as she watched, a vicious crack appeared in one of the glass panes. The crack then began to spread like a spider web. She sat up to go comfort Violetta. The girl had occasionally caused such things in her sleep when she was having nightmares.

Just as she was lifting the blankets, Luna again heard a small, choked whimper, and she froze. Instead of coming from where Violetta slept in the dark, it had come from behind her. Turning her chin over her shoulder, she saw that Tom had rolled over and was facing away from her. He was still asleep, his eyes shut tight, but he had his hands clenched in fists, his face twisted in torment. He twitched as though making an attempt to get away from something, and the furniture in the room gave a more violent shudder all at once. Violetta seemed undisturbed thus far.

"Oh, Tom," Luna whispered in the dark. She brushed a couple of sweat-heavy black curls off his forehead. Laying back down, she pressed herself against his back and tried to wrap her arm over him.

Tom gave a small gasp, followed by an almost inhuman whine at her touch, and he tried to shrink away from her. At the same moment, the crack in the window pane spread outward even further. Luna reached for her wand and quickly repaired the glass so that it would not shatter, then lay down beside Tom again.

"Shhh," she murmured, draping her arm over him more slowly, so as to not startle him. "It's all right. I'm here." The same gentle reassurances she had given to Violetta before came ready to her tongue. She pressed her face behind his ear. "You don't have to face it alone."

Tom's restless movements paused, as did the furniture, as if he and everything around him were listening to her whispered promises in the dark. "I won't make you face it alone," she whispered again into the shell of his ear. Another moment of tension passed, then Tom began to relax against her. After a few minutes, during which Luna continued to hold him close and hum reassurances, all of his twitches and fearful sounds ceased, and his more steady breathing of deep sleep resumed.

Luna followed not long behind him.

* * *

The next time Luna woke, the grey morning sun of creeping winter was already shining in the window, and Tom was already gone from the bed, the spot where he had slept long since cold. She yawned and stretched, supposing her late night had lead to a late morning.

"Violetta, darling," she said as she sat up. "Good morning, it's time to rise and shine. I'm surprised you let me sleep so…," Luna's voice trailed off as her eyes fell onto the small cot where Violetta had been sleeping. The cot was empty.

The world narrowed to just that empty little bed. Luna's throat became tight. "Violetta?" she repeated, her voice sounding thin and strained. When no response came, she sprang from the bed and spun around, looking in all corners of the room, as though her daughter were hiding, as though she would stay so quiet. She rushed to the empty cot and ripped the blankets off completely, as though they were somehow concealing her child. Luna then dropped hard onto the wood floor, sending waves of pain into her knees, and ducked her head down to look under the bed. As though Violetta were playing a game and would be smiling out at her.

But there was no little girl under the bed holding back giggles.

Luna's heart was pounding in her ears, and she now scrambled back to her feet, bounding across the small room to wrench the door into the hall open. "Violetta?" she choked out, ignoring the cold draft that wrapped its way around her bare ankles and up her spine under her nightgown.

She clambered down the stairs two at a time, stumbling into the main room in which they had arrived the day before, a terror rising ever higher inside her. Then she froze.

There, at one of the old wooden tables in the main room, sat Violetta and Tom. Bowls and cups sat in front of them, as though they had been eating breakfast. Only two other tables were filled with other travelers around them, and the old witch who owned the inn was across the room tidying up with an ancient broom. Violetta was cheerfully babbling at Tom, who seemed to not know quite what to do with her and had a look somewhere between perplexion and irritability on his face. The same cold winter sun that had woken Luna upstairs was streaming through the windows and giving a bluish tint to both Tom's and Violetta's black hair. Luna noted with some detachment that Tom's hair was smoothed back down, as though he had never had a nightmare before in his life.

At that moment, Violetta spotted Luna across the room. "Mummy!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air.

Tom turned to look at her over his shoulder, then stood up the moment his eyes landed on her, his wooden chair scraping on the wood floor, his brow furrowing ever deeper. He had crossed the room on his long legs so fast that Luna almost didn't register the movement. He reached out a hand to grasp her upper arm. "What is it?" he asked.

Luna forced herself to move, to take a deep breath, to try to slow her galloping heart down. She could not take her eyes off of Violetta, whole and happy and safe. She opened her mouth to speak, but found no words coming to her for a long moment.

"Everything all right, miss?" asked the old witch who owned the inn from where she had been watching events unfold across the room. Luna became vaguely aware that everyone in the room was now staring at her.

"Why are you crying?" Tom asked. "Luna?"

Was she crying? She reached a hand up to her face and it came away wet. "I woke up, and Violetta was gone," Luna finally managed to get out.

"But she was just down here with me," Tom answered, not understanding the reason for her abject terror.

"But I didn't know that. I didn't know where she was. I didn't even think that she might be with you. I didn't think you would do something like that. I thought she was gone."

A shadow flickered over Tom's face, but it was gone so quickly that Luna wasn't even sure she had seen it. His hand stayed on her arm, which she took as a testament to just how wrecked she must look. He muttered, "She woke up this morning just after I did. I didn't want to wake you. I didn't know what to do with her. I didn't realize it would distress you so much. I never would have let anything happen to her while I was present."

Luna tore her eyes away from Violetta, accepting that her daughter was safe after all, and shifted to meet Tom's eyes. His gaze was probing and thoughtful under dark brows. She still did not know quite how to respond, and her gut now felt uneasy as her adrenaline wore off.

"I've never seen you like this," he said, just as Violetta managed to hop down from her seat and trotted over to them. "I swear to you that she was safe the whole time, although admittedly, taking care of children is not one of my greatest fortes."

"I just didn't know where she was," Luna repeated. Words failed her again as Violetta reached them and slipped her small hand into Tom's free hand that was hanging at his side. "Hi, Mummy, she said, grinning up at Luna.

Tom's head jerked around to stare down at Violetta, who seemed to feel that holding his hand was a perfectly appropriate thing to do. The same look of consternation that had been on his face when Luna first burst into the room reappeared, and this time, Luna felt just the same.

The other travelers began chatting and the innkeeper began sweeping again, apparently deciding that all was well with Luna, Tom, and Violetta.

* * *

Tom recovered some of his composure, although he kept the arm Violetta had taken quite stiff at his side. Looking back to Luna, he said, "I won't do it again."

Luna still had remnants of that terrifying wild-eyed look on her face when she dragged her eyes away from where Violetta's and Tom's hands met. "It isn't that," she said, her voice losing the panicked hints of harshness and easing back into her usual soft intonations. "It isn't because you had her. It's because she was gone."

This he largely believed her about. His heart rate had been thudding in his throat ever since he had first seen her come staggering in the room, so distraught. Initially he had thought something had happened to her upstairs somehow while he was down here, and he had been prepared to rip whoever had wronged her limb from limb, but as the moments passed, he began to understand just how deep her protectiveness and fear for her daughter ran.

He wondered what had happened to her since they had parted ways at Hogwarts several years ago that had made her so quick to be not just anxious, not just afraid, but in such absolute terror at even the faintest whiff of danger to Violetta.

"You know, you don't have to reassure me at the moment," he said. His pulse was still choking him, but at least it had temporarily silenced the usual mocking voice in his head. He felt a desperate, inexplicable need to take that terror away from Luna, to put it somewhere else. "I don't believe any insult I might take at not being immediately considered an appropriate caregiver trumps what you felt when you realized she wasn't there."

Luna blinked at him, as though he were coming into clear focus for the first time this morning.

Emboldened by the fact that his words were, perhaps, giving her comfort, he continued, speaking faster and faster. "If anyone should be receiving reassurance at the moment, it is you. If it would help, I will swear to you via a magical bond that I will never intentionally allow harm to come to Violetta when she is in my company. Like the promise I made to never harm you."

It was a good thing that the voice within him had become mute for the moment, because he knew it would otherwise be shrieking at him in disgust and self-loathing. But even that knowledge was drowned by the inexplicable urgency with which he wanted to never see Luna in such distress ever again.

A long moment passed, during which Violetta released his hand at long last to go scampering around the room. Tom flexed the fingers of the hand the child had been holding, unsure of what to make of her or the way Luna was continuing to look at him. As she stared, he reached out his hand to her so that they could shake and bind his vow.

At long last, Luna spoke. "I just need to know where she is. But if you wanted to do that again, to have breakfast again, I mean, that would be alright."

She reached out and shook his hand, her skin soft and her fingers small when wrapped up in his own. His eyes skimmed over her face as they shook, their palms warming between them with the magic exchanged. Her cheeks were still flushed from tearing down the stairs. Tom had to force himself to release his grip and let go.

A shot of irritation with himself sizzled through him the moment Luna turned away to call for her daughter. His lip curled with contempt for himself. When would he ever learn? Another magical bond to Luna Lovegood weighing him down like deadweight was the last thing he needed if he was ever going to ascend as high as he knew he could. His own desperation to soothe her infuriated him, his rage boiling hot and ready, and he turned on his heel and strode away up the stairs, the sound of Violetta's laughter behind him making his skin crawl.

* * *

Early that afternoon, they gathered their belongings and headed east. They used Floo powder to get as far as possible, arriving in the tiny cottage of a Muggle family who clearly were not expecting three people to hop out of their fireplace.

"I remembered this cottage from the last time I was in Albania," Tom explained as he dusted soot off his clothes, paying little mind to the half dozen panicked and confused Muggles. "Nearest home to where we are headed. Convenient spot before we head off deeper into the woods. We will walk the rest of the way. I would Apparate, but since. . . ." His voice trailed off as his eyes landed on Violetta, who was waving at the Muggle family with a chubby hand from Luna's arms.

Luna was trying to smile reassuringly at the Muggles, though it seemed to be doing little good. The wife had shoved her four children behind her, and the father was yelling at them in Albanian.

"We didn't intend to make your journey more difficult," she said over the shouting.

Tom shrugged, pulling out his wand. "Yes, well, I shouldn't have brought you, but Merlin knows you continually make an idiot out of me, for some cursed reason. I'm beginning to think you're either a master Legilimens, or you're using the Imperius Curse on me." He paused, thoughtful, with his wand pointed directly at the Muggles. "Speaking of, I really ought to practice Legilimency more seriously." He scowled at Luna. "And Occlumency, I suppose."

Luna wrinkled her nose. "I'm not cursing you, nor am I reading your thoughts."

"Fair. Despite being magically competent, I doubt you could muster the intent to place anyone under the Imperius Curse, but especially me. And I suspect you would want to spend substantially less time with me if you knew what I was thinking all the time."

"I don't need to read your mind."

The Muggle mother seemed to have sensed that the wand Tom was pointing at her family was a threat, and she took a step forward with her hands raised, as though she were going to try to disarm him. A smirk twisted the corner of Tom's mouth.

"Look, Lovegood, she's as fierce a mother as you are." _Seems every mother but your own would do anything for their children,_ said the whisper in his head. _Can you blame her, though?_

"Don't mock her."

"If you say so. _Obliviate_!"

Once the Muggles' memories had all been modified, with Luna keeping an annoyingly close watch on him to make sure he did it properly and with care, Tom levitated their bags. While the Muggles still sat befuddled and recovering, Tom, Luna, and Violetta headed out the door and into the dim forest just beyond the cottage.

Luna followed him outside and set her squirming daughter on the wet, decaying leaves and thin mist that covered the ground.

All the evergreen trees stood proud, blacking out parts of the grey sky above, clinging to their needles despite the chill in the air, while the skeletal branches of deciduous trees stuck out here and there like ghosts.

Luna stood beside him for a moment, and they both watched Violetta trot ahead to crouch down and inspect a fallen log. The air smelled of rotting plant matter and encroaching winter, and their breath came out in frosty clouds in front of them.

Tom fought a flinch as Luna reached beside him and intertwined her fingers in his, the cold pads of her fingers pressing into the back of his hand.

"Why are we here, Tom?" she asked, her voice soft, her eyes still on the red-cloaked figure of Violetta.

A long silence passed between them. Tom watched Violetta start to dig in the dirt beside the log, squealing with delight as she uncovered several insects. He considered, for a brief, irrational, and terrifying moment, telling Luna everything - the Horcruxes, the murders, the gaping hole inside of him. Perhaps here, in this quiet place, he could tell it, and she would not withdraw her hand.

 _Idiot. You utterly foolish, dirty-blooded idiot. Get on with it._

Withdrawing his hand, giving his head a shake, and striding forward, he replied, "I've told you. To finish something I should have done a long time ago."

They walked for quite some time. At first, Violetta wanted to walk on her own. This slowed them down considerably, as not only were her steps wandering and small, but she also had a habit of running off their path to explore various things in the forest.

The first several times she did this, she called her mother over with glee to show her whatever it was she had discovered, while Tom waited for them, impatient and scowling. Luna always seemed just as interested in the dirt and twigs as her daughter did, though whether this was for the benefit of her daughter or genuine interest, Tom could not tell. Although he suspected it was the latter.

However, upon the fifth or sixth time of Violetta dashing off to inspect something, she did not call for her mother. Instead, her little voice called, "Tom!"

Tom froze and stared at the girl. The red hood of her cloak had fallen off her head, and her black hair was in two small pigtails. She had a smudge of mud on her right cheek, and she was squatting beside a pile of damp, fallen branches.

"Tom!" she called again, insistent.

"She wants to show you something," came Luna's voice beside him.

Blinking, he looked at her, then back at Violetta. "Right. Because I want to see what's in the muck. This is a waste of time." But he found himself walking towards the little girl even as he said it.

Violetta smiled up at him, reaching a hand up toward him as though to pull him down to her level. His long legs folded until he was crouched beside her, careful to avoid getting mud on his cloak.

"Look," she whispered, in a surprisingly conspiratorial tone of voice for a two year old. As if she had a secret she wanted to share with only him.

He looked under the pile of branches where she was pointing, and he was startled to see a row of small, bright, iridescent cocoons hanging from the underside of the largest branch, where they were sheltered from the elements. How she had spotted them, he had no idea. She was analyzing them now with a scrutiny that - with a jolt - reminded him of his own intensity in learning.

"Do you know what those are?" he said after a moment.

Violetta turned to him with the huge grey eyes she had inherited from her mother and waited for him to tell her. Her rapt attention to him made him somewhat uneasy, but he continued, his brows furrowed as he said, "They're fairies. They build those, then come out with wings."

"Fairies?" she repeated, tripping over the new word.

"Yes. That's their cocoon. They go in one way, and come out completely different." He had no idea why he was explaining this to her, or how much she even understood, but when she turned back to look at the cocoons again with new, even deeper wonder, he found himself wanting to tell her more.

After several long moments, Violetta straightened up again, and took off back towards Luna. "Mummy! Fairies!"

"Beautiful, my love," Luna responded, holding out her arms and scooping up her mud-covered child without a care.

Tom stood up, brushing invisible dirt off his robes, then strode back over to them. He met Luna's eye, then looked away, plastering a frown on his face and starting to walk again. He didn't like the way she was smiling at him.

"She's very curious, isn't she?" he muttered.

"Impossibly so," Luna replied, trailing after him with Violetta in her arms. "Gets it from both sides, undoubtedly."

They walked for some time in silence, listening to the soft sounds of their footfalls on fallen leaves. Just as the shadows in the trees were becoming long and the light even dimmer, Luna started to fall behind, Violetta, who had fallen asleep in her arms, weighing her down.

Without pausing to allow himself to think about it, Tom turned around. "Here. Give her to me. We need to move more quickly. We are close, but it's getting dark."

After a heartbeat of hesitation, Luna placed Violetta into Tom's arms. Avoiding her eyes, he spun on his heel and continued walking. The little girl half-woke during the transfer, readjusting herself in his arms, but a moment later, she rested her head on his shoulder and fell back to sleep.

It wasn't long after that that they entered into a small clearing. There was more light here, but because of the grey sky and the time of evening, it was an eerie light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

Tom stopped walking. He recognized this place. He took a deep breath. Yes - under the decaying leaves and freezing earth, there was the crackling smell of magic, still present from all the wards and curses he had placed here years prior. They had arrived. Across the clearing was a huge ash tree, its thick trunk bearing a large, black hollow in the center.

Upon entering the clearing, Violetta stirred in his arms, waking from her nap. At first, he thought she had just woken because he had stopped walking, but then she turned her head and stared straight at the ash tree, frowning.

Luna stood next to him and watched him. "Have we arrived then?"

"Yes," Tom replied, in turn watching Violetta, who continued to stare at the ash tree. "Let's set up camp for tonight."

He set Violetta on the ground, and she took several toddling steps towards the ash. As though she sensed it too, Luna called to her daughter, "Violetta, darling. Come here."

Several minutes later, Tom had pulled an ancient wizard's tent from his bag and set it up with a flick of his wand. The three of them crawled inside to find an old but comfortable tent which, as per usual, was quite a bit larger on the inside than the outside. There was a small kitchen, a small sitting room, and a platform with a bed on it. Tom hauled the rest of their luggage inside the tent, plopping the bags down beside the bed.

"Just one bed again," Luna mused in a benign way that irritated Tom.

"You may sleep on the couch."

"Very gentlemanly."

"I have absolutely no idea what would have ever given you the idea I was a gentleman to begin with," he said with a wicked smile.

"You certainly are able to put on a good show of it when you want something," Luna fired back, though he noticed a playful gleam in her eye.

Tom snorted. "I can be very adept at a great many things when I want something."

They settled into the tent for the evening. Luna changed Violetta's muddy clothes while Tom made a quick dinner followed by tea. Soon, Violetta had pulled several blankets into a pile on the floor and fallen asleep in her nest. Luna laughed and said if Violetta was comfortable there, she would let her sleep there. Not long after, Luna was yawning and crawling into bed herself.

Tom stayed awake for some time after that feeling unnerved, sipping tea on the couch. The diadem lay in the ash tree just beyond the thin walls of his tent, and at first he thought the strange feeling came from that, as he could feel the magic there prickling the back of his neck. Then with a jolt he realized his mind had been quiet all afternoon since they had left the Muggle cottage. No cruel whispers, no self-loathing, mocking jibes. Just quiet in the forest, quiet with Luna and Violetta.

He frowned at this, then stood up and crossed over to the bed where Luna lay sleeping, carrying his mug of tea with him. Her blonde hair was splayed out across the pillow like spun gold in the darkness, her face peaceful and calm.

An internal war started in Tom's mind while he sipped his tea and watched her sleep. He should just go sleep on the couch. Better yet, he should wake her and make _her_ go sleep on the couch. It was his bloody tent, after all. But his feet did not move, and Luna continued to sleep soundly, undisturbed.

Finally, he drained the last of his tea and set the mug down on the bedside table a bit harder than necessary. "Bloody hell," he muttered, as he pulled back the covers and climbed into the bed beside Luna.

She woke at once, blinking at him with bleary, drowsy eyes. She smiled at him, and then he was struggling to maintain his own anger with himself. "Hullo, Tom," she murmured, looking entirely too pleased with herself, her voice deeper than usual from sleep.

"Oh, do shut up," he snapped. But he did not protest any further, even when she nuzzled her face into his shoulder and fell back to sleep.

* * *

The next day came and went, then the day after that, and the day after that. Tom knew he was avoiding the ash tree, despite its presence being overwhelming at times. He found his eyes were even skipping over it whenever he looked around the clearing.

He knew he should get the diadem and get it over with, get back to London and get back to work. Without a shadow of a doubt, he knew that even though his hateful internal monologue had been silenced here in this still, quiet forest, it would come back with a vengeance sooner or later, and the reality that he had wasted so much time here would seem an unforgivable mistake, one that reeked of his own pathetic weakness.

But it was also so easy to pretend here, in this strange forest where time seemed to stop and where they were completely and utterly alone together. So easy to lie to himself here, about who he was and what he had done and what he had every intention of continuing to do. So easy to pretend he was someone else, with no power, no ambition, and no anger.

Violetta wanted nothing more than to spend time with him, and it never seemed to occur to the child to treat him as strange or dangerous. She found him fascinating and didn't ask difficult questions. It was easy in a way adults, even Luna - especially Luna - were not. They spent the days exploring the woods, something that kept both he and Violetta away from the ash tree. Tom showed Violetta toadstools and flailtail snails and hoofprints that he told her were from a unicorn, but were most likely from a deer. He flipped over rotting logs so she could see all the things that crawled out from under them. He charmed a branch into a vibrant, blooming flower crown for her, and she wore it while strutting around like the queen of the forest. He made ice crystals form into sparkling sculptures of animals out of the mist at her feet. He made a whirlwind pick up the damp leaves and spin around her in a tiny tornado while she squealed with laughter. He felt a strange, fierce surge of pride when she tried her best to mimic him and managed to make a leaf flip over onto its other side.

At night, the three of them stargazed when the wintry clouds broke, finding the planets and the constellations under moonlight. They gripped hot mugs of tea to stay warm and laughed while trying to teach Violetta how to say the names of stars. Luna didn't mention that he had once mocked stargazing. She also didn't mention that he was not doing what he had come here to do.

After Violetta would go to sleep, Luna would fall into the bed, and then later, when his ego would allow it, Tom would follow. He would fall asleep very stiff, trying to touch her as little as possible, for multiple reasons, but they would wake up in the morning a tangle of limbs, her small frame pressed against his, her hair in his face.

The fourth morning, the shirt of her pajamas had ridden up in the night. Tom found himself staring at the pale skin that was exposed there. Her stomach was flat, but there were a few thin lines under her belly button of stretch marks that could have only come from her pregnancy. Before he realized what he was doing, he traced one with a long finger.

"They make magical creams and things to make them go away," Luna said, watching him. "But I wanted to keep them. To remind me of what I'm capable of."

He found that he agreed with her, that they were perhaps one of the loveliest things he had seen, but he didn't know how to say it or even if he wanted to share it. So he looked away and got out of bed instead.

That night, following another long day exploring in the woods, Tom and Luna sat in front of a fire they had built outside their tent, sipping tea. Violetta was playing at the edge of the clearing, just within the circle of firelight, Luna keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn't wander off and Tom making sure she didn't wander too close to the ash tree. Luna was humming to herself, and Tom sat in silence, deep in thought.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, peering at him through the steam rising from her tea.

"Why don't you use Legilimency?"

"I told you I don't do that."

"You also said, as I recall, that you don't need to in order to know what I'm thinking."

"Tom."

"Luna."

"All right," she said, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. "You're very mysterious. Very difficult to read. Very brooding. Nothing would please me more than to know what is going on in that dark, impenetrable mind of yours."

"Sarcasm, hm? I didn't know you had it in you."

"Perhaps I'm just as dreadfully mysterious as you are."

"That was never up for debate," Tom replied with a frown.

The smile vanished from her face. "You just looked very lost in thought. It's my favorite time to know what you're thinking about, when it has distracted you so thoroughly."

"The devil," he said matter-of-factly. "Lucifer."

Luna blinked several times before responding. "Interesting line of thought."

A humorless smirk played at Tom's mouth. "Specifically, I was thinking about how my old matron at the orphanage may just have been right after all. Maybe I'm damned. Maybe I am the devil."

"Lucifer was beloved by God," Luna argued.

"Know your Christian mythology, do you?"

"My mother thought they were interesting stories."

"Matron thought so, too. Religious books were the only ones we were supposed to read, although we sometimes got our hands on other ones. Made us memorize them." He was looking down at his fingers. "Especially me."

"Lucifer was God's most beautiful angel, his most perfect creation."

"And yet, he fell. He betrayed God, and he was cast out. 'I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven,'" he quoted to her.

They fell silent again for a few minutes. Luna tilted her head back and looked up at the night sky before she spoke again. "Lucifer is also a name for Venus, the morning star. Shining one, the light-bearer. Bringer of the dawn."

"Yes," Tom nodded, glancing up at the bright planet above them. He then began to again recite words he had long ago memorized. "'How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn. You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations. You said in your heart, _I will ascend to the heavens; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of Mount Zaphon. I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High_. But you are brought down to the realm of the dead, to the depths of the pit.'"

"Do you think you are doomed to the depths of the pit?"

"I don't know. Do you believe in redemption?" The question came tumbling from his mouth before he could stop it, the real focal point of his thoughts.

Luna remained silent for a long time, her grey eyes never leaving his face, mulling over his question. He had the sense that she was seriously considering the implications of his question, which somehow made him feel less ridiculous for having asked. "Yes," she said finally. "I do."

"Even for someone like me?" He managed to keep his voice from wavering, his tone from changing, but he suspected she could sense the desperation in him under the surface.

Again, she was silent for a while before answering. Her eyes went out of focus in their familiar way. "'Your heart became proud on account of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor,'" she quoted to him.

Tom ignored the sinking feeling in his chest. What did it matter anyway? She did not know what all he had done, so her absolution was meaningless as it would be given in ignorance. And even if she said it, she had always believed in too many absurd things.

He said, "Ah, you can quote too, then. And simultaneously deftly avoid answering the question."

"I would suppose, Thomas, that if there is no redemption possible for you, then it is not much of a redemption at all."

Tom did not quite know how to respond to that, and couldn't decide how to feel about it, but he felt a wriggling sensation that might have been pleasure or relief. Silence again fell between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire and Luna sipping her tea. Tom stared into the flames of the fire, frowning in thought, but otherwise refusing to bear on his face anything he was feeling.

He sighed, then looked at Luna. For a moment, he found himself struck dumb by her, the firelight dancing across her cheeks while the moonlight danced in her hair. An uncomfortable emotion welled inside of him despite himself. He murmured, "'Abashed the Devil stood, and felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her own shape, how lovely: and pined his loss.'"

"Well, that's not the Bible, strictly speaking," Luna started to say, but at that moment, Violetta began calling and scampering towards them across the clearing.

"Mummy, look!" Violetta called, toddling into the brighter light. Her small arms were in the air, holding her prize aloft. "Look!" In her hands was a long, brownish-grey snake with a pattern of black diamonds down its length. Its head was slithering, coiling down Violetta's arm, and on its nose was a small horn.

Luna had gone very stiff beside him, but wasn't moving to do anything either. "Darling, put it down," Luna said.

Tom raised his eyebrows at her, surprised at her lack of concern. "That's a horned viper, it's venomous. She likely shouldn't play with it." He noticed that Luna's eyes were darting between him and the snake, as though she was more worried about his reaction to it than Violetta's safety. Even though healing the child were she to be bitten would be simple, this was distinctly out of Luna's character as a mother, from what he had seen thus far. He gave her a look that betrayed his bewilderment as he stood up, preparing to speak to the viper in Parseltongue to tell it to leave the girl alone.

But suddenly a hissing noise filled the night air that was not coming from Tom himself. His head jerked around so quickly that a pain shot through his neck. Mouth agape, eyes wide, he watched as Violetta giggled, the viper now slithering itself along the back of her neck as it went from one shoulder to the next.

The hissing sounds were spilling directly from Violetta's mouth, sounds that he knew both he and the viper could understand to mean, "Stop! Tickles!"

The child was a Parselmouth.

About a dozen emotions struck him at once: confusion, excitement, rage, a strange jolt of triumph. He had thought it foolishness to think of it, but now. . . . The cogs in his brain were turning at full speed, his heart thudding almost painfully as he stared at the little girl. The snake's horned nose was now coming through a curtain of the child's black hair onto her opposite shoulder, and still she laughed.

Feeling suddenly as though the air was a very thick medium and it took a great deal of effort to move through it, Tom shut his mouth, drew his eyebrows together, and slowly turned his head to shift his eyes to Luna, who was staring right back at him, face inscrutable.


End file.
